


Child Bride

by CelestialSeaWitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Drama, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Marriage Law Challenge, Marriage of Convenience, Romance, Time Travel, child fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 74,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27277057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialSeaWitch/pseuds/CelestialSeaWitch
Summary: The last thing Hermione ever expected was to be married at seventeen, raising a child that was not her own, and stuck in the past. All adventures come with a bitter start, she simply hopes hers won't have a bitter end. Sirmione. Slight marriage law. Time travel.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Hermione Granger
Comments: 305
Kudos: 749
Collections: Hermione x Sirius, Sirius Black/Hermione





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of child abuse, sexual abuse, attempted non-con (NOT involving Sirius), mentions of underage sex, and lots and lots of sex. This story is Sirius/Hermione and begins with a (barely) 17-year-old Hermione and fully aged Sirius Black. If that isn't your cup of tea, you should really stop now. If you're willing to grit your teeth and get past it, the story jumps to a younger Sirius within about three chapters. Time travel and slight marriage law.
> 
> Note (30/10/20): Some minor changes have been made to the chapters of this story. The dates at the top of each one now have the day of the month. The chapters also have some minor typo edits (but there's probably still lots in here).

# 

##  _ \- August 23, 1996 - _

“There must be some sort of mistake,” Hermione whispered, on the verge of tears. Her hands were balled into tight little fists in her lap. The nails that were digging into her skin and nearly drawing blood were the only thing keeping her from fainting. 

“I’m afraid not, Miss. Granger,” Dumbledore replied regretfully. His twinkling blue eyes stared down at her sadly from the head of the table in the dining room of Grimmauld Place. The candlelight made the twinkle look mocking and sinister, or perhaps she was projecting. “I do apologize, none of us even thought to consider your being of age for the law because of your use of a time-turner in third year.” Hermione had never hated herself or her studiousness before that moment. If at all possible, the burning inferno in her chest could have sent her hurtling back in time to stop an overeager third year Hermione Granger from taking so many classes. “If Professor Snape had not thought on it at the last moment, we might have missed it, which — I am most certain — is what Voldemort had intended.”

Hermione’s whiskey coloured eyes flickered over to the Potions Master. His beady black eyes were fixated on her, as she had noticed them to almost always be since she was in fourth year. His eyes darted across her face — her body — and Hermione shuddered. She had no doubt in her mind that it had not been Voldemort’s intention for her to end up in this position — forced to find an acceptable husband before the due date of the Marriage Law, lest she end up with whomever the ministry deemed appropriate. 

“But, as we have explained the plan, you can rest assured that you will be well taken care of, Miss. Granger.” At Dumbledore’s words, Snape’s pale lips curled into a smile that made Hermione’s skin crawl. She almost wanted to take her chances with the ministry’s match.

The young witch quickly turned back to the headmaster. “Please, sir. There must be someone… closer in age, perhaps? I mean… this is…” Her words caught in her throat and she had to force them the rest of the way out, her eyes burning. “…this is the rest of my life.”

“I understand, Miss. Granger.” Dumbledore replied in his patented concerned tone, one she suddenly felt sounded extremely and utterly fake. “But we do believe part of this plan was for Voldemort to get his hands on you. Having you married to Snape will provide the illusion you’re within his clutches. Instead, you will be safe.” Safe. Hermione did not think she’d be safe anywhere near Severus Snape. 

Hermione shuddered visibly as she breathed out, trying desperately to contain her tears. She gave up. The just barely of age witch jumped to her feet and raced from the dining room. She pushed past Ginny, Ron, and Harry all trying to eavesdrop from the other side. 

“Oi!”

“Hermione, come back!”

She didn’t stop. Hermione raced up the old steps of Grimmauld Place two at a time. Her tears streamed freely down her cheeks. She wouldn’t — she couldn’t — marry that man. She’d quite honestly rather die. She’ll give up her magic. Leave the Wizarding World. She had her OWLs now, she didn’t need to continue on at Hogwarts. Her parents would be ecstatic. Maybe they could take an extended trip to France?

But as her feet forced her up the next staircase to the third floor, Hermione knew that wasn’t an option. She could never leave Harry or the Weasleys. They were just as much her family as her parents were. She couldn’t leave them in this mess of a war, not when they needed her. 

So, she would have to do what she did best. Figure out another solution.

Hermione threw open the door to the third-floor parlour room and raced inside. “Marry me!” she exclaimed, her cheeks blotchy and tears streaming down her face. 

Sirius and Remus’ heads both whipped around to Hermione. Sirius opened his mouth, a smile touching his lips, but the words died the second he realized Hermione was crying. “Hermione? Bloody hell, Hermione what’s wrong?”

“The law,” she sobbed, “it’s the law. And there isn’t anyone left and I—”

“Hermione,” Remus cut in gently, “you’re not seventeen yet. You’re exempt from the law.”

“Good thing too,” Sirius cut in, “because You-Know-Who would love nothing more than to get his hands on the witch that outdid his OWL scores.”

Hermione shook her head, her curls flying about her face. “No! Don’t you remember?” Her eyes were nearly wild as she looked at Sirius. “I used a time-turner — in third year!” Sirius’ eyes slowly widened. “I’m nearly three months older than I was before and the ministry catalogues that sort of time usage and…” She sobbed again, her hand covering her mouth. “Please?”

Sirius set his glass of pumpkin juice down on the coffee table as he moved to the edge of his seat. “Hey now, it’s going to be alright, kitten. Look, Dumbledore is going to take care of you. He’ll set you up with one of the twins or—”

“Taken,” Hermione insisted. “They’re all taken. The law passes in two days. I have…” Hermione’s face crumpled and her tears began to fall anew. “I have to get married tomorrow. What if I’m given to a Death Eater?”

“You won’t be,” Remus insisted calmly. “Hermione, you’re far too important to Harry, to all of us, and to the Order. You aren’t going to be left to the… wolves.”

Remus might as well have been talking to a brick wall for all the good his words served Hermione. She immediately turned back to Sirius. “Sirius, please, I don’t want to end up with someone terrible.”

“And you think I’d be a good substitute? Remus would be a better bet if he were eligible.” He shook his head. “Hermione, love, it’s going to be okay. Dumbledore always has a plan. You don’t need to go and lower yourself to marrying an old dog like me.”

Hermione opened her mouth, but no words came out. She knew — she knew — that if she told Sirius she was set to marry Snape, he’d marry her. Sirius would marry her in a heartbeat. But she couldn’t do it. Looking into his eyes, she saw how broken he still was from Azkaban. She couldn’t ask him to take on protecting her from Voldemort when he was only just learning how to cope without alcohol to soothe his pain. 

Hermione hugged herself and tried not to sigh in resignation. Another way, there must be another way. She nodded sadly at Sirius and before either he or Remus could say anything more, she dashed out of the room as quickly as she’d come.

Sirius and Remus both stared at the closed door long after the young witch had gone. “That poor girl,” Remus whispered.

Sirius swallowed thickly. “She’ll be alright. Dumbledore won’t let her down.” The sentiment sounded false even to his own ears. Sirius had many grievances with the old headmaster, but that didn’t stop him from believing that the old wizard would find someone for Hermione. It did, however, make him question who the wizard might choose. 

Sirius pondered over the question all day and well into the night. He stayed up with his glasses of pumpkin juice and stared off into the middle distance. His mind went through all the names and faces of wizards Dumbledore was possibly considering for Hermione. Slowly, each of the names and faces was matched with another witch. Sirius couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out who Hermione would marry. 

When Sirius finally descended the two flights of stairs, it was morning. Coffee was brewing and what smelled like a full English was being cooked. Sirius’ stomach suddenly felt inexplicably empty and he wondered if he’d had anything that wasn’t pumpkin juice in the past day. He couldn’t quite remember. 

“Where is everyone?”

Molly Weasley paused in her fierce whisking of what looked to be pancake batter. She glanced over her shoulder at the old Marauder and raised an eyebrow imperiously. “Still in their beds, I’d imagine. It’s not even noon yet and you know how children can be.”

Sirius glanced around at the empty chairs. “Usually one or two is up. Where’s Hermione?” She’d probably been up all night as well, sick with worry. The library, Sirius thought. She was probably camped out in the library.

He turned to go check there when Molly responded, “At the school.”

Sirius spun back around. “Hogwarts? Why?”

“Haven’t you heard? She’s seventeen, poor thing. None of us knew. She’s signing the papers now and then the bonding ceremony will take place after.” Molly sighed heavily. “I only wish my Ron was of age -- or Harry. They’d both have married her in a heartbeat.”

“Do you know who she’s matched with?”

Molly, who’d gone back to bustling about the kitchen, hummed. She blinked and looked up, as if only just registering his question. “Hm? Oh! Yes, I think it’s to be Severus.” Sirius’ heart constricted painfully. “Such a good thing too. They’ll be at school together so he’ll always be by her.” Sirius couldn’t hide his scowl at that. 

He was absolutely positive Snape would love that fact. Merlin’s balls, he cursed to himself, that greasy git. Why hadn’t Hermione said anything? He’d warned her back in fifth year to stay away from Snape. Sirius and Remus both had not been oblivious to the looks Snape had sent the young witch. He could remember how scared and uncomfortable she’d been when she’d gone to him about it. And she’d gone to him again for help with this. 

Sirius closed his eyes and mentally cursed a long string of insults to the Ministry, Dumbledore, Snape, and the minister too while he was at it. When he opened his eyes again, Molly was watching him with that single brow raised yet again. “When did she leave?”

Molly pursed her lips. “Not too long ago.”

Sirius rubbed a hand down his face. He was not considering this. He couldn’t actually be — ah fuck. Sirius turned and raced towards the floo. He disappeared through the green flames and left behind a smirking Molly Weasley. Molly wiped her hands on her apron. She popped a blueberry in her mouth to stop herself from smiling smugly. Sirius Black would take care of everything. Hermione was not marrying Severus Snape, not on her watch. 

* * *

“I have the papers here. You will sign with this quill and then head to the ministry to have the bonding ceremony performed. Understand?” Snape nodded from where he stood by Hermione’s chair, hands clasped tightly behind his back. Hermione swallowed and attempted a nod that she wasn’t quite sure came across. No one seemed to notice. 

Dumbledore extended the quill across the desk to Hermione. Her hand shook. She tentatively raised it, absently noting how pale her skin looked and wondered where her blood was rushing to. 

The floo flared. 

“Am I late?”

Hermione’s head whipped around. “Sirius!” The wizard in question smiled at her charmingly and winked. Hermione couldn’t help but smile. He was here. He was actually here. 

“What’re you doing here, Black?” Snape hissed over Hermione’s head.

“A very good question, Severus,” Dumbledore commented calmly. “Sirius?”

“Well, I heard about Hermione’s little dilemma and was confused — no — offended that I wasn’t asked. I mean, after all, I am a pureblooded wizard of the Ancient and Noble House of Black,” Hermione grinned at his ability to sound both sarcastic and snobbish all at once, “and more than capable of taking care of our little witch.” He smiled at her warmly. 

Severus’ fingers curled around the head of Hermione’s armchair. “She already has a match.” He sneered and added, “And you’re nothing more than a criminal.” 

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I was proven to be innocent after the battle at the Department of Mysteries. And all the compensation the Ministry gave me over that little issue could easily be used to ensure Hermione’s safety and comfort.” He turned to Dumbledore and tapped the man’s desk. “I’ll put it in writing, if you like.”

Dumbledore tried not to sigh heavily and failed miserably. “That’s not necessary, Sirius.”

“I insist.”

Snape leaned forward as he sneered, “You’re not impressing her into marrying you, Black. This is out of your hands.”

“I’m not trying to impress the witch, I want her taken care of. That’s the point of this, isn’t it? To protect Hermione?” Snape’s lip curled but he said nothing. Hermione looked back and forth between the two, her heart was racing.

Dumbledore leaned back in his seat and clasped his hands over his stomach. He eyed the two men over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. “Well, I do suppose both of you have your own advantages — as it were — in aiding Miss. Granger.” His blue eyes focused on the young witch in question. “Therefore, I leave the decision to you Miss.—”

“Sirius,” Hermione answered quickly before Dumbledore could finish his question. “I choose Sirius.” The wizard in question smirked arrogantly and ran a hand through his curly black hair. Snape’s beady black eyes looked like they were trying to Avada Sirius then and there. 

Sirius turned his arrogant smile on the headmaster. “Where do I sign?” Dumbledore raised the quill and gestured to the dotted line at the bottom of the parchment. Sirius took the quill and signed his name with a flourish. He handed the quill to Hermione and his smile turned from arrogant to warm again. She signed the parchment.

* * *

“F?”

“Nope.” Hermione wrote the letter down and added a leg to the stickman. “And 42.”

Sirius blinked quickly and looked around. “42? I thought we were playing Hangman?” 

Hermione grinned as she looked sidelong at him. “We are. I’ve also been counting the number of times that girl walks by so she can stare at you.”

Sirius looked around the office of the Department of Matrimonial Bondings. “Which one? The one with the…” He coughed and looked away. “…nice blouse?”

Hermione rolled her eyes but she couldn’t hold back her smile. “The one with the legs.”

Sirius made a mildly impressed face and nodded once. He leaned back casually and spread his arm along the back of Hermione’s chair. “Well, she better use them to keep on walking.” He rested his ankle on his opposite knee and slouched in all his elegant pureblood glory. His smile when he turned his face back to her was smirking and charismatic. “I’ve got my hands full already.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “More than you know.” Sirius raised an eyebrow back and his smirk grew. Hermione sighed and looked around. “How long have we been here?”

“Days,” Sirius replied dramatically. Hermione gave him a look. “A while,” he amended. “We should be up soon.” Hermione nodded and took a deep breath. Sirius reached across his lap and took her hand in his own. He squeezed gently. “It’s going to be fine, kitten.” Hermione nodded. Sirius bent his head forward and whispered, “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

She turned and smiled at him warmly. “I know. Thank you.” She let out a soft sigh. “I’m just nervous about the bond.” Sirius tried to put on a brave face but Hermione could easily see through it. 

There was no way to know what sort of bond they would get until they were in the meeting. There were dozens of different kinds of bonds that one could be assigned based on magical power, magical compatibility, and the ministry official’s mood. Sirius remembered when Lily and James had gone for their magical bond. The couple before them had annoyed the official and were stuck with a bond that seared in pain whenever they were too far apart. This was the rest of their lives and unfortunately, the ministry felt they needed a hand in that as well as everything else — as per usual. 

“Whatever it is,” Sirius finally said, “we’ll figure it out.” Hermione nodded. She’d frantically read over every type of bond the night before. It had not helped. Several of them she had been able to cross off her mental list of ‘Oh Merlin Please No’ when she ended up with Sirius instead of Snape. She could handle sharing emotions with Sirius if she had to, memories as well. Doubly so with Sirius since she was well aware he knew occlumency, a fact he’d disclosed to the Order in a fit of rage when he found out Snape was teaching Harry that skill and not himself.

“Mr. Black?” Sirius turned at the sound of his name. A short and pudgy man was standing at the door with a clipboard in hand. He had a bulbous nose and his straw-coloured moustache beneath it that was overly dishevelled. This was the man that would determine the future of their marriage — of the rest of their lives. The man eyed Sirius and Hermione sitting together and cleared his throat. “If you will?”

Sirius nodded once. “Of course,” he said, attempting to remain respectful. This was not a man he wanted to annoy. He stood and held his hand out for Hermione just like his mother beat him to do when he was young. 

The ministry official led them down a corridor and into a large, dark chamber with five walls. At the centre of the room was painted a silvery pentagram with each point corresponding to a corner of the room. Hermione and Sirius hung back near the door, their hands clasped tightly.

“My name is Freemon Markell,” the pudgy man introduced as he walked through the room, around the pentagram, and to the other side, “and I will be surveying and assigning your magical bond today. Please leave your wands at the door and enter the pentagram.”

Hermione and Sirius each turned to one of the side tables that bookended the door. There was a small pillow of fabric with an indentation made for a wand. Hermione placed hers in the fabric and Sirius did the same with his own. He walked forward and paused only when he realized Hermione had not followed. Sirius turned and smiled kindly at her nervous expression. Wordlessly, he held out his hand for her again. Hermione smiled gratefully and took it. Together, they entered the pentagram. 

Freemon watched them with an impassive expression upon his face. His eyes, however, flickered across their forms rapidly. He took in every interaction and expression that passed between the two of them and rapidly catalogued them. He’d already fully surveyed their magical culpabilities and compatibility. They were… quite the couple.

A magical bond, if catalogued incorrectly, could be a horrible thing. Many couples in the past had questioned Freemon’s choice of marital bonds. He had been known to choose ones that, at first, seemed highly irregular. But Freemon prided himself on being able to read the strengths and weaknesses of a relationship and this couple… well, it would be a toss-up how this couple felt about the decision he was going to make.

“Join both your hands,” Freemon instructed. The couple did as told. “Stare into one another’s eyes.” The room filled with the tension of magic. The pentagram around them glowed a bright red colour. “Now, this next part is very important. Do not stop breathing.”

Sirius and Hermione both gasped as the magic from the pentagram suddenly surged into their bodies. Their backs shot up ramrod straight and their hands tightened their holds on one another. Hermione forced her eyes to stay open as the magic rushed through her veins and thrummed beneath her skin. She felt the fierce hotness of the magic in every part of her body. Her legs throbbed, her heart clenched, her nails ached. 

Her mouth opened. A gasp escaped where she was sure it would have been a scream and then — the pain abated. She remembered to breathe. The magic settled in her body. Hermione could feel a warm ball of energy at the centre of her heart. She knew this to be her magical core, though she had never felt it before. Her eyes were still locked on Sirius’ and from the way his brows drew together, she knew he could feel his own magical core as well.

The pain had left but the intensity of the magic pushing in on her body and rushing through her veins was still present. Her fingers tightened reflexively around Sirius’ as the power surged in a massive wave around her. 

Hermione gasped as the magic finally released her. Her knees buckled and she fell forward into Sirius. He hissed as he caught her and fell to his knees. Hermione’s fingers clutched at his leather jacket and her head fell forward. The second her forehead touched his chin they both gasped. Magic swelled within their magical cores. Hermione’s skin tingled where Sirius touched. She could feel the heat of him through his jacket and her fingers ached to press against his firm chest. Sirius’ fingers spread across the width of her waist, sending tingles along Hermione’s sides.

“Blessed be,” Freemon said in a subdued voice, but was genuine with congratulations once the pentagram has stopped glowing. “You are now bonded. The bond you have received is a physical one, as I’m sure you’ve already noted. It will be a bond that is strengthened by touch and grows along with it. You have roughly twenty-four hours to consummate the marriage or the bond will slowly fade away.”

Still breathing heavily, Hermione pulled her head back slightly so she could meet Sirius’ gaze. His eyes were a steely grey colour that sent a thrill down her spine, not unlike the tingles she felt beneath her fingers that had moved to touch the soft fabric of his shirt. Twenty-four hours. She tried not to grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited 30/10/20
> 
> Some people have been confused in the past, so I'd like to clarify if it's otherwise unclear. This story starts in the summer leading into Hermione's sixth year at Hogwarts. She is sixteen in the canon books, but I've altered this with the time turner. Someone was angry, saying that I'd claimed that the time-turner made her almost a full year older and that's not at all what I meant to imply. It's only meant to be a few weeks or even months that Hermione has aged forward. This could still be super implausible, but meh. This is what I went with. This is also, very obviously, a Sirius!lives story. He never died in the DoM, which is mentioned in this chapter.
> 
> I hope this clears up any lingering confusion and I'm sorry if this didn't come across properly in the story for you!
> 
> Thanks for reading
> 
> xx


	2. Chapter Two

##  _ \- August 24, 1996 - _

There was a note on the table when they arrived home. The kitchen was empty and the house oddly silent for a headquarters location. Sirius picked up the note and flipped it open. He looked up and around the gloomy kitchen. “Remus cleared everyone out. We’ve got the place to ourselves.”

Sirius and Hermione’s eyes met briefly before both looked away. It was not lost on either of them what they had been left alone to do. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and waited for Sirius to say something. The young witch may not have been a virgin but she was a far cry from confident enough to start a sexual conversation with someone she wasn’t already sexual with. 

Sirius said nothing.

Hermione turned her back to him and rolled her eyes. “What do we do now?” she ventured innocently. She glanced over her shoulder at him.

Sirius met her gaze briefly before looking back around the kitchen, his brows drawn together in consternation. She couldn’t blame him for being as nervous as he was. After all, he thought he was about to devirginize his godson’s best friend — not that he was. She just really didn’t know how to tell him that.

“Food!” Sirius suddenly exclaimed. “Aren’t you hungry? I’m starved.” He moved briskly towards the fridge with false enthusiasm. “Can’t remember the last time I ate, actually.”

Hermione pursed her lips at that comment, not that it was an unusual one. Sirius was often lost in his thoughts and memories of the past, so much so that he skipped meals more than a few times a week. 

“Fuck,” Sirius cursed upon opening the icebox. 

“Language,” Hermione scolded as she moved towards his side.

He stepped back so she could see into the icebox and gestured with his hand. “There’s nothing in the fridge.”

“The fridge is fully stoked, Sirius. Mrs. Weasley just did the shopping yesterday, look.” There were fruits and vegetables aplenty, meats, fish, and cheeses. It was more than enough for the two of them. 

“Molly usually cooks. She hasn’t cooked.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “We could cook.”

“You can cook?”

“You can’t?”

Sirius made a face. “No, unfortunately, Azkaban only offers classes in baking. I can make a mean triple-layered chocolate cake with chocolate ganache.” Hermione tried not to laugh as she pictured Sirius in a chef’s hat, covered in chocolate and flour with a bunch of similarly dressed dementors. 

She nodded once, still suppressing her laughter as she said, “Well, lucky for us, I can cook very well.” Hermione pulled various things from the icebox and placed them on the counter. “You can help.” 

Sirius gave her a wide-eyed look but didn’t object. “What are we making?”

“Chicken casserole.” She filled a pot with water and set it to boil on the stovetop. Hermione came back around to the counter that Sirius was standing at, staring at the vegetables. She rolled her eyes. “You can try cutting them?”

He nodded, eyes wide. “Oh, right. I can do that.” He took a massive knife from the butcher block and made it only a step before Hermione stopped him.

“That’s for bread, Sirius. Use this one.” She gave him a significantly smaller knife.

Sirius sniffed but nodded once as he said, “Less impressive, but alright.”

“It still gets the job done.”

“But with less of a flourish.”

“The flourish is in the final product.”

Sirius nodded in agreement. “Often in baking as well.” Hermione smiled as she shook her head. She wondered if she peppered him with enough baking questions that he would eventually reveal he didn’t know anything — knowing Sirius, probably not.

Hermione left him to chop vegetables and turned to prepare the rest of the dinner. Despite the fact he was only supposed to be cutting vegetables, Sirius somehow managed to nearly burn the pasta and almost threw out the raw chicken.

“I’ve just never seen it like that,” he protested as they washed up the kitchen after dinner.

“You’ve never seen a raw chicken?” Hermione questioned disbelievingly.

Sirius shrugged and handed her a dirty plate. “When would I?”

Hermione huffed a laugh and shook her head. “Didn’t you live alone for a while? How’d you survive?”

“I ate out, mostly. Or at James and Lily’s place. We’d do dinner every Friday night after Harry was born.”

Hermione smiled warmly. “That’s nice. I’m sure Harry would love to hear about that.”

Sirius hummed and nodded. He handed her the last of the dishes and their fingers brushed. A spark of magical electricity shot through them. Hermione gasped lightly and Sirius sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. It was the first time they’d touched each other since they left the Ministry. 

The dishes slipped into the sink with a loud clatter. Neither of the two noticed the noise. Their fingers still touched lightly, teasing one another with the magical sparks it sent through their bodies. Slowly their hands clasped with interlocking fingers. Hermione looked up at Sirius from beneath her lashes. 

He kissed her. 

The second their lips touched, everything seemed to fall into place. The magic erupted between them like fireworks. Their bodies gravitated towards one another and this time they couldn’t resist.

Sirius wrapped his arms around Hermione’s petite waist and pulled her close. She spread her fingers through his dark curls. Sirius growled lightly and nipped at her bottom lip. She opened her mouth in response and Sirius took full advantage. Hermione honestly thought she might be in heaven. What Sirius could do with his tongue could probably put him back in Azkaban.

Hermione broke away and gasped for breath. She reached out towards the still running tap.

“Leave it,” Sirius growled. His hand shot out and he wandlessly shut the tap off. He wrapped his arm back around her waist and lifted her up. Hermione let out a startled laugh. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Sirius froze, suddenly remembering himself. “Is this—?”

Hermione kissed him soundly. Sirius closed his eyes as he savoured the pleasant thrum that ignited beneath his skin. He’d never experienced anything like it before. 

Hermione nipped at his lip and the need inside Sirius flared. He turned and blindly stumbled out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. Hermione’s fingers nimbly unbuttoned his black dress shirt. Her fingers touched the tattoos on his chest and he couldn’t stop himself from slamming her back into the nearest wall. He growled again as he deepened the kiss. 

Hermione moaned. He undid her jacket and shoved it off her body. Hermione took the moment to try and catch her breath. Her hands spread across Sirius’ tattooed chest. Her normally whiskey coloured eyes were dark.

Sirius’ hands burned Hermione as they trailed slowly down her body. He grabbed her and thrust her closer again as he continued on his way to the stairs. Hermione’s jacket lay forgotten in the hall. 

Sirius’ shirt was left on the first flight of stairs.

Hermione pulled her jumper over her head when they reached the second-floor landing. She laughed as she tossed it over her head. Her fingers threaded through Sirius’ hair as she angled his head to kiss him again. Sirius nearly fumbled the last few steps. Merlin’s beard, he thought, she was good at that. 

They fell into Sirius’ door and Hermione groaned when the corner arch dug into her back. Sirius fumbled for the handle. 

The door opened and he stumbled towards the bed. Hermione’s back hit the bed and the two bounced. Sirius pulled back briefly and began unbuttoning her blouse. Hermione sat up to help him pull it off. Sirius groaned when he found a t-shirt beneath her blouse. 

“How many bloody layers are you wearing?” he moaned in despair as he knelt between her legs.

“I thought I was marrying Snape when I got dressed.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows and nodded once. “Fair point.” He grinned mischievously and asked, “Are you wearing laundry day knickers?”

Hermione snorted and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “My ugliest granny panties, thank you.” 

Sirius snorted and laughed. He kissed her and gently guided her onto her back again. His kisses trailed down her neck and over the fabric of her shirt. Lips captured her nipple through her shirt and she gasped in delight. Her entire body felt like it was on fire. She bit her lip to hold in her whimper as Sirius moved further south. His fingers found the buckle at her jeans and he pressed a kiss to her sternum as he slowly pulled her trousers down. Hermione kicked her sneakers off and helped Sirius with her jeans before leaning back again. She hooked her fingers in her high-waisted knickers and moved to pull them off. Sirius’ hands shot out and quickly grabbed her wrists.

He tsked teasingly as he sent her a sly smile. “Now, now, now, we’ve got to get at least a little look at these.”

Hermione threw her head back and groaned, “Sirius…”

He laughed under his breath. Her hands were pushed aside and Sirius slowly pushed her plain white tee further up. He snickered. 

She smacked his shoulder. “Sirius.”

“It’s got pink frills,” he choked out. He fingered the little bow at the top of the hem. 

“Stop,” she moaned in torture. “Just take them off.” But Sirius had gone back to his hot, open-mouthed kisses across her stomach and Hermione’s fingers curled in his hair. He moved lower and Hermione gasped. 

Sirius licked and played with her through the thin cotton barrier. She cried out. The magical bond between the two of them sparked and flared with the rise of Hermione’s arousal. Sirius wrapped his arms around her legs and pressed her hips down when she jerked erratically. 

Hermione gasped Sirius’ name. Her body writhed on the bed.

The magic amplified every touch and sensation between the two. Sirius’ fingers wandered up beneath her shirt and fondled her breast through her sports bra. “Yes,” she moaned. Thrills shot through her entire body, down her spine, and straight to her core which Sirius played like it was made for him. Fuck, Hermione thought, maybe it was.

The young witch was pulsating — aching. Her fingers tightened their grip in Sirius’ hair so tight it was nearly painful. Her hips jerked and she cried out. She moaned. She might have been saying something. Words were drawn from her against her will but she didn’t know what they were. It might have been begging — it was probably begging. 

Hermione’s back arched off the bed as she nearly screamed her release. Her breath came to her fast. Her heart was racing. She barely noticed Sirius kissing her thighs as he — finally — pulled her completely soaked knickers down. He cast the panties aside and his hands splayed across her tanned thighs. Sirius leaned forward and trailed a long lick across her heated flesh. Hermione keened and squirmed. 

He kissed her stomach and slowly worked his way back up her body. His fingers caught on her shirt and slowly slid it up her chest. Hermione’s hands grasped his jaw and she pulled his lips back to her own. Sirius was pleasantly surprised, not many birds would be willing until after a thorough magical mouth cleanse. He didn’t pull back and he didn’t complain. Hermione’s tongue flicked teasingly and Sirius renewed his efforts in getting her shirt off. 

Finally free of the thin cotton shirt, Hermione fell back against the bedsheets once more. Her curls spread across the bedspread like a halo. Merlin, he loved her curls. They weren’t unlike his own and he was a vain bastard, he knew. 

Hermione’s plump lips stole his attention once more. He moaned as her nails lightly scratched over his shoulders and down his chest. The witch was trying to kill him. Honestly, she was.

Nimble fingers went to work on his belt and trousers. She pushed his trousers down as far as she could whilst still pinned under him. Sirius pulled back and Hermione nearly gasped. The cold air on her body was nothing in comparison to the loss of the magical bond between them. It felt like she’d been thrown out into the cold. 

Despite the loss of the effects of the magical bond, the tension had not dissipated. Hermione was still wet, her heart racing, and her body eager for more. Sirius still had a considerable bulge in his trousers that Hermione was dying to unwrap like a present on Christmas Day. 

The worked-up witch quickly hooked her fingers under her sports bra and suddenly she was entirely naked. Hermione leaned back on her elbows. A sly smirk spread across her face as she watched Sirius stare. 

She raised her eyebrows and nodded at his trousers. “You’re a bit behind there, Padfoot.”

Sirius’ eyes darkened instantly. His entire body tensed like something inside him had snapped. Hermione’s eyes widened. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that. She opened her mouth to apologize when Sirius pounced on top of her. A muttered spell under his breath and the rest of his clothes were gone. 

Sirius’ mouth pressed against her own. Hermione barely had a second to register the change in positions before he was thoroughly snogging her. She moaned and pressed her chest against his own. Something hard was pressed between them and with a tingle of excitement, Hermione knew exactly what it was. Her brow furrowed for a moment as she registered just how long said instrument seemed to be. She pulled back a fraction to look down the length of their bodies. 

She gasped in horror. “Oh my god!” Her hands pushed against his shoulders in panic and Sirius immediately pulled back. 

“Hermione, what’s—?”

“It’s massive!” she cried out, her eyes wide and still glued to the offending package — no, weapon. 

Sirius tried desperately not to laugh. He knew it would only set her off into a fury. “Hey, hey…” he soothed her. “It’s okay. I’m a bit above average, I know, but—”

“A bit? Sirius, that thing is inhuman.”

His smirk broke through with that comment. She glared and he quickly coughed to cover it up. “It’s going to be fine, love. I know what I’m doing.”

“Doing? You’re not going to be doing anything,” she stated with finality. She pointed at his cock. “That thing is not going anywhere near me. I’d like to remain with the ability to walk, thank you.” Hermione’s annoyance quickly turned to horror. “Oh Merlin, I’m never going to walk again.” Her eyes teared and she knew she was being irrational but the boys she’d been with had never been so…advantaged. 

Sirius’ hands on her face were gentle. “Hey,” he whispered as his nose grazed her cheek, “deep breaths, love.” His finger gently stroked across her cheekbone. “Deep breath in, deep breath out. That’s it.” Hermione’s wide whiskey coloured eyes met his own light grey ones. “It’s always scary a witch’s first time but—”

Hermione punched him in the chest. 

Sirius fell to the side and rolled onto his back, the wind completely knocked out of him. He groaned as his hands clasped against where she’d punched him. She’d punched him!

“I’m not a virgin, you wanker!”

Sirius blinked, startled. He turned his head towards her and once he’d caught his breath again he questioned, “You aren’t?”

Hermione growled and grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed. She then proceeded to beat him with it. 

“Oi!” Sirius hollered. He scrambled up and grabbed the pillow from his irate witch. He tossed it aside before wrapping his arms around her and hauling her into his lap. Hermione continued to push and shove until Sirius grabbed the back of her head and pressed a hard kiss to her lips.

The magical bonding between them flared hot again and Hermione nearly melted against him. His tongue did horrible, wonderful things to her that she never wanted to end. His hand wandered to cup one of her breasts and her lower muscles clenched. 

“You’re playing dirty,” she whispered.

Sirius’ smirk reminded her that she had decided to bind herself eternally to a Marauder. Oh, what a world. His lips brushed hers as he whispered back, “What on earth made you think I wouldn’t?”

“Sirius…” was her only response and he could hear the fear in her voice.

“I’m not going to hurt you, pet.” Her brows furrowed as she bit her lip. “There are spells, you know? One’s that’ll make it hurt less and others that’ll… make you less uncomfortable tomorrow.”

“I’ll still be able to walk?”

“Marauder’s honour.”

Hermione let out a long, shuddering breath. She looked down and rolled her eyes. “You’re still hard?”

“You’re stunning when you’re angry.” He winked. “And you’re naked which definitely helps.” Hermione snorted out a short laugh. “Feeling better?” She nodded. “Good.” He pressed her down onto the bed and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Now, how about you just sit back,” another kiss to her shoulder, “and enjoy this very Sirius experience.” He captured one of her nipples between his lips before she could scold him for his wordplay. 

Sirius continued to play and tease her body. He could tell, now that he knew, that she wasn’t a virgin. It had been rather obvious the whole time, if he were being honest with himself. She was bold with her movements. Clearly, Hermione knew what she liked and wasn’t afraid to push him in the right direction. He was more than comfortable with the revelation. If anything, it made things infinitely easier. He wasn’t deflowering his godson’s best friend, thank Merlin for that. He was just going to fuck her, infinitely better. 

Sirius cast the necessary spells, ones he’d learned in his youth and quite honestly hadn’t used in ages. He pulled back a fraction and stared down at Hermione’s flushed form. Her curls were a perfectly tousled mess and her lips were plump and pink from his kisses. He hadn’t been with a witch in a while.

This wasn’t some cheap fuck. This young, radiant witch was his wife. She deserved more than that.

When he kissed her again, it was soft and slow. Hermione opened her eyes. She met his gaze and her breath stilled. They came together like the completion of a perfectly executed spell. Easy, flowing, fluid. Hermione’s body arched into his, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Sirius growled into her neck and she gasped in response. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he pressed into her even closer. 

“Sirius!” Her nails dug into his back. She couldn’t catch her breath. The magic was swelling around them. She could feel it rising within her, around both of them. Hermione thought the bed might have been floating, she wouldn’t have been surprised if it was. 

Something in the room shattered as she came. The magic snapped like an elastic band and Hermione found she could breathe again. Sirius groaned and rolled to his back. He felt like he’d run a fucking marathon. Christ. Hermione raised her arms above her head and stretched lethargically. Sirius couldn’t help but let his eyes wander her soft form. Merlin, she was stunning. 

She turned onto her side and propped her head up in her hand. “Now I know why witches and wizards bother with these bonds.” Sirius snorted in amusement. “Really though, the lifetime commitment almost feels worth it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Almost?”

She raised an eyebrow back. “Well, I certainly hope that wasn’t your whole repertoire. I’d be bitterly disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” he choked out, both brows were now raised high on his forehead. Hermione was smirking and although he knew she was playing him, he wasn’t entirely sure how to react. This was not a side to Hermione he knew. A naked and sexually flirtatious side. It was a good side. 

She hummed in response, one of her fingers trailed down his tattooed chest. He fought not to shiver. Hermione looked up at him from beneath her lashes, a devious and exceedingly attractive smirk spread across her face. “I’m not normally a missionary position kind of girl.”

“Oh?” His smirk returned to his handsome face. “And what sort of position is your thing?”

Hermione swung a leg over his hip and fluidly pulled herself up to straddle him. Her hands spread across his chest. “Take a wild guess.”

“Doggy style?”

She leaned forward as she giggled and kissed him. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Unfortunately for you, that position does not provide nearly enough opportunity for bossiness in bed.”

Sirius’s smirk turned roguish in a way only he could achieve without looking like an arse. “‘course it does. You’ll just have to be the one following the rules and not making them.” His hands grasped her thighs and he leaned his head closer to hers. “You like following the rules, don’t you, kitten?”

Hermione, refusing to give up any advantage, leaned close enough that her chest teased his. Her hair curtained them as she whispered, “He said to the girl who kidnapped a reporter and held her captive for a year.”

Sirius’ eyes widened. He thought for a moment. “Skeeter?” Hermione’s smile was answer enough. “Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t you?”

Hermione brushed her lips against his. “Yeah, but what a way to go,” she enticed. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips and then quickly moved on before he could respond. Her kisses danced down his chest as she explored his tattoos. She ran her tongue along the stem of a beautiful rose tattoo. When Hermione finally pulled back, Sirius’ eyes were nearly black. “I love tattoos,” she revealed in a soft whisper. Her fingers traced the magical compass tattoo. The pointer spun before pointing directly at her. Along his right side, trees rose up that looked like the Forbidden Forest. She thought she might have seen a wolf, stag, and a dog darting through the trees but it was too quick to be sure.

“Do you really?” he questioned, pulling her out of her intense study. “Little Miss. Hermione Granger likes tattoos? I’m shocked and appalled.” He sounded anything but.

“Oh shush,” her fingers brushed his lips and he nipped at them, “you don’t know everything about me.”

His hands slid down her thighs before slowly travelling back up again. “Alright, go on then. Tell me something about yourself, Miss. Likes Tattoos.”

She smirked. “I have a tattoo.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes at the pretty witch. His hands stilled. “No, you don’t.” Her smirk turned into an amused smile. “I’ve seen every inch of your body, love. I’d know if you had a tattoo.”

“Ma-gic,” she singsonged. 

Sirius growled and jerked her closer. “Show me.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled back. She looked around the room. “Wand?” Sirius raised his hand and a wand flew into it. He handed it over. It was his. Hermione hesitated only a moment before taking it from his hand. It had a square handle with runes etched into the middle portion. Hermione itched to study them closer but decided to save that for another time. She gave it an experimental swish and flick and smiled smugly when the magic from the unknown core responded easily. She reversed the concealing charms on her body.

The first mark to reveal itself was the long pale scar left from the battle at the Department of Mysteries. It slowly drew itself down from her right collarbone, across her chest, and to her opposite hipbone. Sirius’ eyes narrowed at the mark, remembering both of their very close brushes with death that night. His eyes then caught on the black ink that looked like it was seeping from the pores of her skin and out onto the tanned flesh of her left side. Along her ribcage in the beautiful, flowing script were the words, “to be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you into something else, is the greatest accomplishment.”

Sirius smiled as he traced the three-lined script with his thumb. It was perfect.

“Emerson,” Hermione explained. “I’m rather fond of his essays.”

“Of course you are.” He raised an eyebrow. “Muggle tattoo?” She nodded. “Those hurt more,” he pointed out.

“Believe me, I know.”

His brow furrowed and he shook his head. Hermione Granger was not the witch he thought she was. He’d thought he’d had her all figured out. Silly, silly old bastard, wasn’t he? “When did you get it?” It certainly wasn’t new.

“France. Summer before fifth.” He raised his eyebrows at that. It was a bit young for tattoos, not that he was one to judge. “My parents let me wander on my own most days while they were in conferences,” Hermione continued. She stared off, lost in her memories with a small smile on her face. “I met a boy. He had such beautiful tattoos.” Her smile was soft. “He was beautiful.”

“He was your first?”

She nodded. “Hurt like crazy. I cried. He was sweet though.” Her smile turned into a smirk. “It got better after that.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow and thought about her missionary position comment. “How much better?”

“He was older,” she revealed with a nod of her head. “He knew what he was doing.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How much older?”

Hermione smiled and kissed him sweetly. She kept kissing him and didn’t answer his question. Sirius noticed but couldn’t find it in himself to be upset when she was kissing him like that, straddling him and pushing her naked chest against his own. She could have told him she’d mangled his motorcycle and he was fairly certain he’d have been okay with it.

* * *

Hermione tiptoed down the stairs of Grimmauld Place in Sirius’ old Zeppelin shirt. The house was dark and still in the dead of night. She couldn’t even hear Kreacher and figured he was in another part of the house. A noise, however, had disturbed her from her sleep. No one had stopped by the house the last few days since she and Sirius’ bonding. Well, not since Remus had flooed in on them having sex on the table. Hermione had never seen the werewolf blush so madly before. She was sure she hadn’t been much better off. There are some things your third-year professor shouldn’t see you doing, and riding his best friend whilst wearing nothing but a skimpy negligee is one of them. 

A cabinet was closed, the sound echoing down the hall from the kitchen. Glasses clinked. Someone was definitely in there and Hermione didn’t think it was Kreacher. Hesitantly, she crept closer to the kitchen door.

Something shattered and Hermione jumped. She quickly entered the kitchen and paused at the sight before her. Severus Snape was in the kitchen. An empty bottle of Ogden’s was rolling across the floor and several cupboards were open. He was opening another one when she stepped inside. Hermione’s eyes widened at the sight of her drunken professor. Her heart quickly began to race and she stepped back.

Alone, at night, with a drunken Severus Snape was not a position she’d ever wanted to be in. Said professor had finally found an old bottle of muggle rum at the back of the cabinet. He pulled it out triumphantly. 

Hermione took another step back and bumped into the doorframe. She squeaked in surprise, quickly cut off by her hand on her mouth. Snape spun around and his beady eyes zeroed in on the young witch. Neither moved. The drunken wizard’s eyes slowly trailed down her form and Hermione remembered she was only wearing Sirius’ shirt. She became acutely aware of the fact that her hair was a mess, her lips bruised, and hickeys were dotted across her neck and legs.

Hermione’s fingers twitched at her side. Why hadn’t she brought her wand with her?

Snape’s eyes narrowed. Both moved at once. Hermione flew out the door and down the hall. “Sir—” Her scream was cut off by Snape’s _silencio_. He grabbed her arm and threw her back against the wall. Her scream of pain went unheard. Snape’s hand closed around her throat and Hermione let loose a strangled gasp. His fingers tightened and her air supply was quickly cut off. 

Snape leaned towards her. His oily hair fell forward. His breath was heavy. 

Hermione couldn’t breathe. She clawed at his hand clutching her throat. Her eyes teared. 

Snape let go and Hermione gasped for air. He leaned in towards her and the smell of alcohol surrounded them. He was mumbling something, his body pressed close to hers. Hermione’s tears rolled down her cheeks and her entire body shuddered as she tried to regain her breath. Snape’s fingers curled around the curve of her waist and Hermione’s chest squeezed.

“Please—” she mouthed. Let me go. His fingers tightened their grip and her silent plea cut off with a choked sob. His face nuzzled into her hair and neck and Hermione’s skin crawled. He continued mumbling things under his breath but Hermione was too terrified to register what they were. 

Her eyes flickered to the stairwell. She willed Sirius to come rushing down and save her. Snape’s face moved closer and Hermione struggled against his chest. She shook her head as she silently cried out “no,” to no avail. The young witch cried as his lips pressed harshly against hers. She tried to push him back or turn her head away. He held her in place, a low rumble vibrating his chest as he deepened the kiss. His fingers pressed against her jaw, forcing it open. Snape pressed his tongue into her mouth, a low moan immediately filling the hall. 

Hermione’s fingers curled into his black robes. She bit down on his tongue — hard. She tasted blood and heard Snape cry out. He slammed her back against the wall and it forced her to release her bite. Snape stumbled a few steps away. He glared furiously as he brought a hand to his mouth. Hermione used the moment to flee. She ran further down the hall. The heavy steps behind her alerted her to the fact that Snape had given chase. 

His hand snatched her wrist and Hermione let loose a soundless scream as he spun her back around. She slammed into his chest and something shattered between them. Hermione felt glass embed itself into her palm.

“No!” Snape shouted. “What have you done you stupid little bitch?” Hermione pushed at him with her uninjured hand. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. There was stomping from upstairs — Sirius. “I was going to go back!” Snape screamed into her face, spittle flying. Hermione flinched away but he grabbed hold of her wrists. A gold, broken time turner dangled uselessly from his neck between them. “I was going to fix this,” he hissed desperately. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” She shook her head. Please, just let me go.

Snape was suddenly blasted away. He slammed against the wall and crumbled to the ground. “Get your bloody hands off my wife, Snape.”

Sirius stepped into her line of sight and her entire body began to shake with adrenaline. “Hermione? Hermione, are you okay?” He stepped closer and she tensed. His touch was gentle as his thumb touched her chin. She closed her eyes as warmth spread through her. The bond filled her veins and calmed her soul. “Fuck, you’re bleeding.” Sirius stepped away and the room began to spin. “The fuck did you do to her, you bastard?”

Hermione held her bleeding hand to her chest. Her shaking wouldn’t stop. Something glittered in the bright blood that dripped down her hand. The room continued to spin. Hermione’s head swam. Sirius’ growling voice grew distant until quite suddenly, everything had simply disappeared. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (edited 30/10/20)
> 
> And here - we - go.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> xx


	3. Chapter Three

##  _ _

##  _ \- December 18, 1982 - _

Auror Alastor Moody raced up the steps of 12 Grimmauld Place. He and his partner, rookie Kingsley Shaklebolt, had been called in response to a distress call. Apparently, dark wizards were attacking Walburga Black. Moody almost wanted to pretend they didn’t get the call. Batty old bitch deserved whatever she got. Then again, if Walburga Black was calling for help, it probably meant business. 

Moody slammed the side of his fist against the door. The door was slowly opened by a stooped, hook-nosed elf. Before either could say anything, a shrill screaming could be heard from within. Moody shot his partner a look and both drew their wands before entering the townhouse. 

They found the old hag screeching in the parlour room. A small, terrified and half-naked young girl seemed to be her target. Moody and Kingsley both came up short at the scene before them. 

Kingsley raised his eyebrows. The girl must have just barely been of age. She was clad in only a faded Led Zeppelin shirt, her hair a mess and hickeys dotting her neck. She looked well and truly shagged. 

Moody, by contrast, immediately narrowed his eyes at the blood on her lip. She held her left hand awkwardly and there looked to be a jagged piece of glass embedded into the flesh. There were bruises along her wrists and neck that stood out in violent contrast to the bruises of the love bites. 

The young witch’s eyes locked on the aurors and her mouth dropped open. “Moody?” her mouth wordlessly mouthed.

The old auror glared at her before turning said glare to Mrs. Black. “Black!” he snapped harshly. The old hag finally ceased her screeching and turned venomous eyes on the aurors.

“Well, it took you long enough! She could have killed me twice over by now!”

Moody bit back the comment that desperately wanted to come out at that. He huffed and nodded to the girl, his eyes on the lady of the house. “Explain.”

“She just showed up!” Walburga shrieked. She gestured wildly to the bleeding witch. “The little whore was crying and bleeding all over my Persian rug!” The unknown witch glared at the old woman. 

Moody nodded at Kingsley and the younger auror moved towards the bleeding witch. She flinched back from him and he stilled immediately. “I’m not gonna hurt you, love, just want to take a look at that cut.” She eyed him warily but offered up her hand for inspection. She still flinched when he touched her and her hands shook. 

Meanwhile, Walburga continued screeching about apparating witches and Persian rugs. “Some sort of foul prank and I won’t stand for it!” she cried out, her limp black hair shaking about her lined and ugly face. 

“She can’t have apparated in,” Moody argued with barely concealed annoyance. “The Black wards are impenetrable.” Even as he stated it, he was unsure. Where the hell had the witch come from? He turned to his partner who had finished cleaning the terrified witch up. Kingsley made eye contact with his mentor and shook his head. He had no ideas. Moody shifted his piercing gaze to the witch that had somehow recognized him. “So, who are you, witch?”

She opened her mouth but no words came out. She touched her throat with her now healed hand. Moody raised his wand and flicked it sharply. The girl cleared her throat. “Hermione. My name is Hermione I’m — I’m not exactly sure I know what’s going on.”

Walburga glared at the curly-haired witch. “She isn’t a Black! There aren’t any Hermione’s in my family. I would know!”

Moody raised an eyebrow. “Can you prove it?”

Walburga glared viciously. She huffed before storming out of the room. Her heels echoed up the stairs. Moody rolled his eyes at the woman’s dramatics. He nodded his head in the direction the hag had left in. “Come on, then.”

Kingsley left first and only after a long, suspicious look at Moody did Hermione follow. Moody’s heavy footsteps followed the skittish witch up the steps. She’d clearly been in some sort of altercation. The bruises on her wrists and neck were proof enough. 

A scream stopped them on the stairs. All three froze and turned in the direction the shrill cry had come from. The library. They raced the rest of the way up the stairs and the two aurors burst through the door, wands raised. Walburga stood before the Black family tapestry, hyperventilating. Moody stormed forwards and searched the tapestry that had Mrs. Black in such a state. 

There, beside the scorched off face of one Sirius Black, was the face of Hermione Granger — born 1979. Moody’s blood ran cold. It was her. Definitely her. The picture was undeniable. 

Moody turned and flicked his wand at the hysterical hag. “Obliviate.” The old witch blinked slowly and her cries fell silent. She looked around in confusion before leaving the room without a word. Moody turned back to the tapestry and flicked his wand once more. “Come on,” he growled to his partner and the girl. 

“Where are we going?” Hermione questioned, her voice small. 

“To see Dumbledore,” he growled back as he stormed past her.

Hermione paused before she followed. She glanced over her shoulder at the tapestry and watched as the date beneath her name slowly changed from 1979 to 1965. 

* * *

“Professor, please.”

“I’m afraid my hands are tied, Mrs. Black,” the Headmaster explained, not sounding very sorry at all. 

“There must be something that can be done. I can’t be stuck here!”

Dumbledore sniffed and shuffled the papers on his desk. “That is more a question for the Unspeakables than myself.” Hermione’s brows drew together as she glared at the unhelpful Headmaster. “As I have said, Mrs. Black, there is nothing I can do and…” He fixed her with a cold look. “And to speak frankly, I wouldn’t do anything even if I could.”

Hermione bristled. “I beg your pardon?”

Dumbledore did not seem concerned by her anger. He set aside his papers and popped a candy in his mouth. “You are the future wife of one Sirius Black, a traitor not only to his family but the Order as well. How Sirius will ever find a way out of Azkaban, I do not know. Nor do I care to know. I do not help Death Eaters.”

“Unless it’s Severus Snape,” she snapped. 

Dumbledore’s eyes turned hard as ice. “You will do well to remember your manners, Mrs. Black. I contacted the Unspeakables and they are here to take care of this…unfortunate circumstance. Anyone else would have simply turned you away.” He said it graciously as if he had done the most magnanimous thing since Jesus parted the Red Sea. Hermione wanted to leap across the table and throttle the old bastard. How dare he? 

Hermione swallowed her rage. Between clenched teeth she claimed, “Sirius is innocent.”

The headmaster’s eyes were sharp as he studied her. “Whatever lies you must tell yourself to cope with the decision you have made, are your own.” Hermione narrowed her eyes as she tried to catch onto the doublespeak she felt was taking place. “Sirius Black is guilty and there is no proof to say otherwise.”

Her chest constricted. He knew. Dumbledore knew. 

Hermione stood and turned to the Unspeakables waiting by the door to the headmaster’s office. She headed towards them without so much as another word to Albus Dumbledore. Sirius was innocent. He knew. 

“Mrs. Black,” he called just before they left, “I do wish to say—” Whatever he wished to say was cut off as Hermione slammed the door shut behind her. She didn’t give a shit what he had to say. She was furious.

The Unspeakables said nothing as they all left Hogwarts. Someone grabbed her arm and she flinched violently before they disapparated. 

* * *

She couldn’t go home. The Unspeakables had confirmed it. But they couldn’t just get rid of her either. Hermione didn’t know whether to be irritated or amused that pureblood culture of all things was what was saving her arse.

“Normal procedure for beings cast back in time is to obliviate them and snap their wands,” the Unspeakable sitting across from her in a white-tiled room called Interrogation had explained. It was bright and sparsely furnished with only a metal table and a chair on either side. It was also freezing. “You, however, are married to the Head of Black House and as such, you are entitled to the protections afforded someone of your position.” 

“Meaning?” She scratched her arm.

He produced two long scrolls. “You are being given control of Black vaults, all properties, and essentially anything else that was taken when Mr. Black was imprisoned in Azkaban.” Hermione’s eyes widened. “This included.” Sirius’ wand was set before her on the table. Hermione didn’t hesitate in picking up the square handled wand. She wondered how Sirius managed to get it back in her timeline, she guessed it didn’t really matter now. Her hand ran through her hair as she scratched her scalp.

The warmth that spread up her arm when she grasped the wand reminded her of the magic from her marriage bond. The Unspeakable was watching her intently. Hermione swallowed and touched the wand to the parchment. There was a bright blue glow before the paper shimmered and disappeared to Gringotts. 

The other parchment was moved closer. 

“This is an agreement. The Ministry will provide a birth certificate and proper papers for identification. In return, you signify that you will not tell anyone you are from the future.”

Hermione leaned forward and read over the fine print. It was… terribly written. There were more loopholes than there were actual stipulations. She held her tongue. Hermione carefully read over each of the very brief and loose ‘rules.' She couldn’t tell anyone she was from the future, but she could talk about it if they already knew. She couldn’t reveal political and magical advancements but it did not define exactly what they meant by that. If Hermione thought that meant only who the next Minister would be and not the outcome of another war, then so be it. She was horrified. No wonder purebloods ruled the world still — literally, nothing could stop them. 

She looked up from the parchment. “And my husband?” Her thigh itched and her leg bounced in contained agitation.

The Unspeakable narrowed his eyes. “He’s in Azkaban.”

“I meant, can I tell him? He knows he isn’t currently married. I’m going to have to explain.”

The Unspeakable shook his head. “I can’t change the contract, but a precedent has been set. We have a formal explanation on hand that you can deliver to him.”

“What will it say?” Her leg continued to bounce beneath the table.

“You name, original birth of date, as well as where and when you first arrived in the past.” Hermione tried not to tense. Sirius would be immediately suspicious when he saw she arrived at Grimmauld Place. “It will explain who you are and what time you come from. From there, you will be able to discuss anything with him.”

Hermione nodded. She could handle Sirius’ anger about Grimmauld Place. It would seem a very small thing in the grand scheme of things. “Okay.”

He handed her a folded dark purple envelope. The colour of the Department of Mysteries official post. “This will only last for forty-eight hours. It will disintegrate immediately after.” Hermione’s eyes widened at that. “Someone is setting up a meeting for you and your husband now.”

“Right now?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Can I at least have a pair of trousers first?” Her arms were itchy again. She felt overwhelmed. Agitated. Hot despite the chill of the room.

The Unspeakable smirked. Hermione scowled fiercely and he coughed into his hand. “There isn’t time. You can transfigure a pair, but once you pass through the wards of the island they’ll disappear. I’ll have someone provide a cloak for travel.”

She ground her teeth as she said, “Thank you.” Finally, she was able to ask what she’d been thinking about the second the headmaster had rejected her so coldly. “What about Harry?”

The Unspeakable froze. “Excuse me?”

“He’s Sirius’ godson. Do I have custody of him?” She wanted to get him away from the Dursley’s as soon as possible. Merlin only knew what they were doing to her best friend.

Carefully, the Unspeakable responded, “No one knows where The-Boy-Who-Lived is.”

“And if I did?”

“Technically… he’d be yours.”

Hermione tried not to smile. She pressed her wand to the parchment and it glowed briefly before disappearing.

The door opened and another cloaked Unspeakable entered. Hermione was led to the room they’d first apparated into. It wasn’t the Ministry atrium but a private apparition approved room specifically for Unspeakable use. Once she was done here, she would be obliviated of it’s appearance to ensure protection. Someone handed her a long black cloak and Hermione shrugged it on. 

She managed not to flinch when the Unspeakable took her arm, but her entire body still tensed. The bruises from only a few hours ago were still fresh on her body. She yearned for a scalding hot shower to scrub away the dirt and disgust from her skin. Her cheeks flushed at the idea of a hot shower. Hermione shook her head of suddenly very dirty thoughts. What was wrong with her?

They apparated away and Hermione gasped the second the cold touched her. It was winter. Snow coated the ground and her feet burned hot against the ice. She swore under her breath. Someone quickly guided her inside as she cast warming spells on herself.

Azkaban was dark with stark, dirty walls. Guards were at a front desk, others chatting on what was presumably their break. They paused when the group arrived.

“Is it ready?” one Unspeakable asked.

“All setup,” a guard returned. He stood from the desk and glared at Hermione. “Right this way, Mrs. Black.” Hermione scowled at his tone and demeanour. He led Hermione and the Unspeakable that had interrogated her down a narrow hallway. They stopped before a door. “You have a little over an hour.”

She blinked in surprise. “To deliver a letter?”

The guard looked over her head to the Unspeakable. Hermione turned to him as well. The man coughed into his hand. “Your bonds are out of sync. You have an hour to… correct it. You need to—”

“I get it,” Hermione quickly cut him off and raised her hand. She blushed madly. The bond. Was that what had her so suddenly out of whack? She was still itchy all over and oddly aroused, especially considering the circumstances. The marital bond hadn’t reacted like this before but it also hadn’t been put in this very off-temporal situation. 

“Wand,” the guard instructed. Hermione pursed her lips before handing over Sirius’ wand. “Cloak.”

Hermione glared at him. “Really?”

“Protocol.”

The young witch huffed and unclipped the cloak. She threw it at him. One of the guards down the hall whistled. Hermione ignored the men’s jeers and entered the room angrily. She slammed the door shut behind her. The witch took a moment to breathe in the satisfaction that action brought her before she turned to the room at large. 

It was just an empty white room, not unlike the interrogation room she’d been in earlier. To the left sat an observation window that she hoped no one was behind. If she were being honest with herself though, there was probably a bloody Quidditch team of men. And there, sitting in the centre of the room on a hard metal chair with his hands and feet cuffed in steel chains, was her husband. Sirius Black.

He looked the only way Sirius Black could look whilst imprisoned and chained to a chair. Dead sexy. It was entirely unfair. His hair was pulled back into a bun and his jaw was lined with dark stubble. Despite the fact he wore a tattered prison uniform, it might as well have been Armani with the way he sat so casually. He was skinny, but not emancipated like she remembered him first being. His cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut glass. There were dark circles under his eyes. He also seemed to be totally sane. His eyes were sharp and curious on her, his mouth held a delicious little smirk.

“Is that my shirt?”

Hermione swallowed. She stepped across the room quietly. The tile was freezing against her bare feet. The cold made her nipples hard, or so she told herself — it was most definitely not the sight of Sirius. When she was finally before her husband who was practically lounging in his seat, she handed him the letter. He eyed it suspiciously before he took it. The chains rattled as he flipped it open to read the contents.

His entire body tensed. He looked up at her again.

“I don’t understand,” was all he said. His voice was gruff.

“I’m your wife,” she replied simply.

“No, I got that. I just — but — how…?”

Hermione shifted on her cold feet. “It’s a long story.” Her gaze flickered up to the dirty ceiling and then down to the dirty tiles. Anywhere but at him. His feet were also bare. He had his legs apart, his knees wide. She could just take a step forward and kneel and —

Hermione blinked and looked up. She let out a long breath as Sirius slowly sucked one in. His eyes were dark as they trailed up her body heatedly. His gaze met hers and Hermione’s knees nearly buckled. “How old are you?” The letter said her date of birth but not the year she had disappeared from.

“17,” she admitted quietly, “barely.”

Sirius blinked rapidly. He looked away. She frowned at his expression and wondered what exactly — disgust. He was disgusted. Hermione crossed her arms, unable to stop the feeling of hurt that seared her heart. “I’m old enough to be your father.” He paused. “Or… I would have been when you — and we?” He shook his head. “…why?”

“I told you, it’s complicated.” She glanced towards the observation window and Sirius followed her line of sight. “We don’t have time for that.” She turned back to him, her shoulders set. “There are more important things to discuss — and do.”

“Look,” Sirius tried to reason, “you’re a very pretty witch and I’m sure future me will be very pleased to have a little thing like you in his bed but I’m not him. And to be bloody honest, I don’t feel like reconciling with whatever pureblood child bride my mother handpicked for me while I was in fuckin’ prison.” His sneer was all pureblood haughtiness. 

Hermione bristled. “I am not a child bride.” Her disgust was evident. Sirius raised an eyebrow. His lounge in the chair looked near kingly with that expression upon his face. Hermione really wanted to slap him. “I’m not!” She stepped forward, nose in the air and wild curls all about her face. Sirius couldn’t help but think she looked radiant. “And I’ll have you know,” she hissed quietly enough that none of the guards watching would hear, “that I am a muggle-born.”

Sirius jerked back. “Wait — what?”

She sighed heavily. “We don’t have time for this!” Hermione looked around for a clock of some kind but of course, there wasn’t one. Not that it would help. She had no idea what time it was when she’d even entered the room. 

Sirius opened his mouth, ready to argue that they would make bloody time for this when Hermione quickly straddled his lap. His words died in his throat. Heat coursed through his veins and for what felt like the first time in over a year, Sirius felt something good. He felt wonderful. His entire body thrummed. Soft hands touched his jaw and Sirius nearly whined like a little puppy. 

Touch. Warmth.

Sirius had always been starved for affection, but this was something entirely different. He felt both so calm and yet energized like an electric current was running through his body. The heat of the witch in his lap had him dizzy with arousal. He could smell it on her too. Her scent filled the room. 

She smelled like cherries and chocolate. 

He hoped she tasted like them too.

Sirius’ eyes opened slowly. His lashes brushed her cheek. “What’re you doing?” he breathed. His eyes met her startlingly light ones. A bright, almost golden brown colour. The colour of whiskey. He wanted to drown in the drink of her. 

“It’s the bond,” she breathed back. Her fingers traced along his jawline. His jaw clenched under her ministrations. “It’s all… out of sorts.”

Sirius slowly shook his head, his eyes heavy-lidded. “That doesn’t sound good.” Hermione shook her head along with him. Their noses brushed. “We should fix that,” he whispered against her lips. She nodded.

Sirius tilted his head up and captured her lips. Hermione’s fingers wound up into his hair. Her nails scraped his scalp. She opened her mouth to him and Sirius took great advantage. Hermione gently rocked her hips against his and Sirius growled into her mouth. He moved to touch her but the sound and feel of the chains that bound him held him back. He could only get as far as grabbing her thighs. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. Oh, this was not good. He wanted to do things. He wanted to touch and be touched and fuck. He hadn’t had a fuck in over a year. Hermione kissed his neck, completely unconcerned with Sirius’ lack of freedom. He turned his head, his heavy pants near her ear. “All on you, babe.”

Hermione pulled back a fraction. Her eyes flickered down to the restraints. She smirked. Her lips drew up the side of Sirius’ neck, across his pulse, his jaw. She nibbled on his earlobe. Sirius bit his lip. “That’s fine,” she replied pleasantly. “Not the first time I’ve had you tied down.” Her smirk against the skin of his jaw was positively delicious. “And I promise you it won’t be the last,” her teeth scraped at his stubbled jaw, “Padfoot.” Fuckin’ hell.

Sirius growled and jerked against the restraints. He turned his head and captured her lips in a fierce kiss. Hermione responded with just as much fire and heat. She tipped his head back and rose up on her knees, demanding and controlling. Sirius felt like he was on fire. 

Hermione’s fingers flicked open the buttons of his prison robes with ease. She trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses across his tattoos. His robes were pushed back off his shoulders, his chest fully exposed. Her nails scraped across a nipple. Sirius shifted and pulled at the chains. He wanted so desperately to touch her. 

Her small, perfect fingers had just begun to pull at the strings of his trousers when she paused. She looked up and their gazes met. “I don’t have my wand.” The rest didn’t need to be spoken.

Sirius swallowed and nodded. Hermione wordlessly shifted closer on his lap. His lips pressed against the skin of her neck as he whispered the contraception spell. He whispered the other needed spells, ones he knew all too well. He leaned back and kissed her jaw. “It’s not as powerful when done wandlessly. Take it easy.” Hermione nodded.

The curly-haired witch reached beneath her and slowly freed him from his trousers. She moved so slowly. So enticingly slow that Sirius ached. Her soft, pretty gasps were like the sounds of angels. He’d never been with such a perfect witch before. 

Hermione moved against him with a slow, steady rhythm. Her fingers curled into his shoulders. She bit her lip and Sirius growled before he leaned forward to do that for her. She cried out. The electricity of the bond between them was like fire and ice. Sirius felt connected to her more than he’d ever been to anyone in his entire life. This witch. His witch. 

“Sirius,” she pled.

He kissed her neck, unable to erg her along in any other way. “Yes, that’s it.” She clenched around him at the sound of his voice and Sirius swore. “Come on, baby. Come for me.” She moved faster. Sirius jerked his hips up but didn’t manage much of a thrust. He sucked at her neck. 

Hermione threw her head back as she came. Her cry of pleasure fell around him like a siren’s song. She looked like a vision. Sirius dropped his head to her chest as he followed her. His deep groan was loud against her soft whimpers. Hermione’s movements slowed back down until she came to a stop. Her fingers were in his hair. His face pressed against what he knew for sure was his shirt on her chest. 

Someone banged on the door. Hermione glanced over her shoulder at the solid metal door. Sirius scowled over her shoulder. The timing was too perfect. They’d definitely been watching. Fucking perverts.

Hermione moved so that Sirius slipped out of her. She fixed his trousers so he was decent again but didn’t move from her position in his lap. There was another bang on the door that they ignored. 

Hermione pressed her face close to Sirius’ and he marvelled at the fact that the bond still seemed hot and wonderful beneath his skin. He could definitely get used to sex like that. Hermione’s lips pressed against his ear and all thoughts of sex vanished when she whispered, “I know where Peter is.”

Sirius froze. His fingers tightened on her thighs. “He’s dead.”

More banging on the door.

Hermione minutely shook her head. “I know you’re innocent. I’m going to get you out.”

His eyes widened. He pulled back but Hermione’s lips stopped whatever he was going to say. She slid from his lap. The letter she’d given him was placed in his hand once more. Then she was gone as quickly as she’d come. 

Sirius sat in his chair, eyes wide, feeling like the entire world had just tilted on its axis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (edited 30/10/20)
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> xx


	4. Chapter Four

## 

##  _ \- December 24, 1982 - _

It was Christmas Eve.

Hermione almost turned back around but knew she couldn’t. She’d prepared for days and it was a coincidence that it happened like this. Happy coincidence. Her Harry would have been pleased. This final thought was what gave her the courage to take the last step and ring the doorbell of number four Privet Drive. 

Hermione let out a long breath and it visibly caught in the air. It was snowing. A white Christmas, Hermione noted absently with a bit of wonder. 

The door opened and a tall, dark-haired woman with a horse face looked down her nose at Hermione. She sniffed at the young girl on her doorstep. “We’ve already donated this year. Kindly cross us off your list.” There was nothing outwardly rude about what she had said, but nothing kind in it either. The woman, Petunia Dursley, danced a fine line between respectable and horrid. 

Hermione's lips pursed. She pressed a hand against the door when the older woman tried to close it shut. “I’m not here for donations.” Petunia opened her mouth. “Nor am I a caroller,” Hermione added in her patent, annoyed and bossy tone.

Petunia immediately bristled. “Then who are you?”

Hermione held out a rolled scroll and the woman visibly recoiled. Petunia Dursely recognized wizarding correspondence when she saw it. “I’m here for Harry.”

Petunia’s eyes widened. Her hand shook as she took the scroll. She broke the seal and opened the letter. Forms. Official and legal forms naming  _ Hermione Black _ legal guardian of Harry James Potter. “Black?” Petunia’s voice held heavy amounts of disgust.

“Sirius’ wife.”

Petunia scowled fiercely. There was no love lost between her and Sirius. 

Hermione pushed past the tall woman. Petunia gasped in outrage. “You cannot just—” she broke off and both turned to look down the hall where voices and music could be heard. A party. Petunia continued at a low hiss, “you cannot just come in here. It’s  _ Christmas _ .”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Where’s Harry?” Petunia’s eyes flickered to the cupboard under the stairs. Hermione burned with rage. “How could you?” she seethed. Her eyes narrowed and her tone turned mocking. “It’s  _ Christmas _ .” Petunia looked down. She had no words to defend herself. Hermione shook her head in disgust.

The witch turned to the cupboard but Petunia’s voice stopped her. “Wait, what about the wards?” Hermione raised an eyebrow at the muggle. “He - Dumbledore… He said that the wards would keep us safe. If you take him away…” Hermione studied the young mother. Perhaps she did care for Harry? “My family…” Petunia finally finished.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Well, let’s hope no Death Eaters come to kill you in your sleep, shall we?” She stalked away as she said, “I’ll put a good word in with my husband.” Hermione did not see Petunia flinch. She still felt extremely satisfied with her dark comment. 

Hermione flicked her wrist and Sirius’ wand fell into her palm. She waved it and muttered a spell, setting up a muggle repelling charm. She didn’t want Vernon of all people to come barging down the hall. The last thing she needed was that great big bull in the middle of it all.

She dropped to her knees before the cupboard and immediately had to quell the storm of rage she felt at seeing the lock on the outside of the cupboard.  _ How dare they? _ Hermione had known Harry’s situation at home was bad. She knew more than most. But he had never said… Tears gathered in her eyes and she quickly shook her head. There would be time for tears later.

Hermione slid the lock across and slowly opened the small door. It was dark inside. A small bed was laid out on the floor, barely a cot. The space was cramped, dark, and dusty. A small body was curled up under a thin blanket. 

Hermione spotted the cord for the light and pulled it. It clicked and the room still managed to feel dark if not even more cramped. She crawled nearly fully into the cupboard and bent over the small toddler on the cot. Harry.

Her fingers brushed his cheek. “Harry?” she whispered softly. “Harry, wake up.” She didn’t want to just whisk him away. She was sure little Harry wouldn’t have minded waking up far away from the Dursleys, but it felt wrong. Hermione knew how much Harry had dreamt of someone showing up and taking him away. She wanted to give him that moment, however fleeting the memory would be once he was too old to remember. “Harry?”

The little boy stirred in his sleep. His eyes blinked open and he rubbed them as he yawned. He froze when he registered someone touching his face. Harry’s bright emerald eyes blinked open widely as he turned to face the person in his room. The light was on and a head blocked out most of the light. Curls were lit up like a halo around the woman’s head, her face in shadow. An angel?

“Harry?” her voice was soft and light. Her fingers tenderly touched his cheek. Harry’s breath hitched. No one had ever touched him so gently before. His heart hurt in his chest. He didn’t know why, but tears began to fall down his cheeks. “Oh no, please don’t cry.” Her hands tucked under his arms and she pulled him out of the cupboard and straight into her lap. Harry’s eyes squeezed shut at the bright light. “Shh…” The woman held him and gently stroked his back. “It’s okay, love. I’ve got you.” Harry continued to cry, but he didn’t make a sound. His face pressed into her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around him. She felt warm. She smelled like sweets. “My name is Hermione. And I am your very best friend.”

Harry’s eyes blinked open and he stared up at her in wonder.

Hermione pulled back and looked down at Harry with a warm smile. She was beautiful. “It’s going to be okay now. I’m going to take you away from here.” Harry didn’t respond. His eyes were wide as he continued to stare. “Would you like that?” Her hand stroked across his face again and Harry couldn’t help but nod quickly. She smiled and Harry knew everything really was going to be okay. “Good.” 

Hermione pulled Harry up onto her hip and stood. She held Harry’s little body against her own protectively. She gave Petunia a glare so fierce, the older woman physically flinched. “I hope you’re happy with yourself, Petunia,” Hermione whispered coldly, “because your sister would be absolutely ashamed of you.” She flicked her wrist and cancelled the ward she’d put up. Without another word, Hermione left. 

The young witch trudged out into the cold winter night, now a young mother. She cast a warming charm on Harry before she held him close. “I need you to close your eyes and take a deep breath, Harry.” She’d gotten her apparition licence. It had been one of the first things she’d done after leaving Azkaban — that and finding a pair of trousers. 

When Hermione was sure Harry had followed her instruction, she turned on the spot. They landed with a loud  _ pop _ outside an apartment door. Harry’s face screwed up and he looked nearly sick. “Shhh…” Hermione soothed. She held his cheek and kissed the other one. “I know, it’s not fun, but now we’re out of the cold. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

Harry blinked and looked around. His eyes widened. He turned to Hermione, stunned. Hermione smiled at his expression. Her heart ached with the loss of her best friend but she buried her pain and continued to smile for the small toddler in her arms. He was too small, she noted. Clearly malnourished and probably terribly starved for physical affection, at least if the way he was clutching at her was any indication. Her poor Harry.

“How?" he asked quietly, the first word out of his mouth so far. 

Hermione's smile turned devious as she leaned close, their noses touching. “Magic.”

Harry gasped. Not a gasp of awe — fear. He shook his head. “That’s a bad word.”

Hermione pursed her lips to hide her fury. “No, it’s not. It's a wonderful word. Let me show you.” She waved her wand and the door to apartment 43 opened wide. Hermione stepped through and with a softly whispered spell, lights slowly blinked on.

Reds, greens, blues, and purples all danced merrily up and down the walls. White lights beamed from within magical icicles out on the balcony. Christmas garland touched the counter and was swept over the fireplace mantle. A massive Christmas tree sat in the corner by the fireplace, which was lit and roared welcomingly. The tree had a bright, pulsating magical light at the top like a star. The decorations were alive, moving and dancing across the branches.

It was magical.

Hermione watched Harry’s expression carefully. His jaw had dropped. His eyes were wide. He clung very tightly to her cloak. “Do you like it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry nodded, unable to speak.

“Do you still think ‘magic’ is a bad word?”

Harry shook his head.

Hermione smiled and kissed his cheek. “Good.” She set Harry on his feet before closing the door behind her. “Welcome to your new home, Harry.” He turned and looked up at her. “Happy Christmas.”

Harry tentatively smiled. “Happy Christmas.”

Hermione took off her cloak and set it on one of the pegs in the wall. “Are you hungry? Did you have dinner yet?” It was very late, but Hermione suspected the Dursley’s had neglected that. Harry shook his head. She didn’t know to which question he was saying no but decided it didn’t matter. She knelt down so they were at eye level. “What’s your favourite thing to eat, love?”

Harry shrugged. Hermione raised an eyebrow. She waited patiently. “Spaghetti,” he finally responded quietly, “…with meatballs.”

Hermione smiled brightly and nodded once. “I thought so.” She led him to the dinner table which was set with two bowls full of spaghetti and meatballs. She helped him into his chair, a booster seat ready and waiting for him. Hermione sat down beside him and used her knife and fork to cut his meal into smaller length noodles. 

Harry did not pick up his plastic baby fork. He eyed the food suspiciously before he turned to the witch. “You knew,” he accused.

Hermione fought in vain not to smile. He was utterly adorable. “Do you know how?”

He studied her a moment longer. “Magic,” he whispered. She nodded once and turned to her dinner. Harry still hadn’t moved. He looked around the merrily decorated apartment. The dinner smelled warm and delicious. He turned back to Hermione. “Thank you.”

Hermione paused. She looked at him, her face soft and warm. Her fingers brushed through his hair and the action made Harry tense. He watched her intently as she slowly leaned forward and kissed the top of his head. “It was my pleasure,” she responded. 

Hermione turned back to her dinner. After a moment, Harry turned to his own dinner and finally began to eat as well. He barely made a dent in the plate before he claimed to be full. Hermione tried and failed to encourage him to eat more. Eventually, she settled on placing the leftovers in the fridge and having him finish it if he got hungry later. If Harry was as underfed as he appeared, he wouldn’t have a very large appetite, but Hermione resolved to work on that immediately. 

Harry helped her gather the dishes, which she set to magically wash in the sink. His eyes widened and he froze as he watched the dishes move by themselves. He stood there for a long time, mouth open and eyes wide. He didn’t even notice that Hermione had left the room. It was incredible. 

“Harry?”

The toddler jumped and spun around. He tried not to tense, hoping he hadn’t done something wrong. Hermione smiled at him and he resisted the erg to fidget. “I ran a bath for you. Come on.” He took her hand and slowly followed her through the bedroom and into the ensuite. 

There were bubbles in the bath a few toys lined up along the edge. Harry immediately went to it, excited. He’d never had a proper bubble bath before. He nearly felt giddy. 

Hermione turned the distracted toddler and began to help him out of his clothes. She had to admit it was weird undressing her best friend. She had to mentally shake herself a few times and remember that this was a toddler. This was technically her son now — not just her best friend. She loved Harry enough to dissociate her memories of his future self and this one. Harry loved her enough that she knew he’d have done the same for her. 

Hermione’s breath caught when his clothes finally came off. Harry had horrible, dark bruises on his upper arms and chest. Hermione’s fingers reached out, just shy of touching them. Her face screwed up in anger and Harry immediately began to cry.

“I’m sorry,” he cried.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Oh, no! Harry, it’s okay.” She cupped his face and kissed his cheeks. “I’m not mad at you. I promise. Please don’t cry.” She didn’t know if she was begging him not to cry, or herself. “Shh… it’s okay.” Hermione wiped his tears away. “Does it hurt?”

He stared at her with wide, tear-filled eyes and didn’t respond.

“The — the bruises, Harry,” she clarified as her finger gently brushed one. “Do they hurt?” He quickly shook his head. She didn’t believe him. Hermione stood and turned to the medicine cabinet. She picked up a jar of bruise paste she’d made. It was on hand for when Sirius returned from Azkaban, she had not thought she’d need it for  _ Harry _ .

The young witch allowed herself one moment of fury and sadness as she was turned away from Harry. Those horrible,  _ horrible _ people. Her Harry had clearly held back on their treatment of him. Or perhaps this had not continued? No, Hermione thought with a shake of her head. If someone was willing to hurt a  _ baby _ they would have absolutely no compunction about doing the same to a young man.

Hermione took a deep breath and plastered on a soft smile. She turned to Harry and sat down on the tile floor. Hermione slowly applied the paste to each of Harry’s bruises, new and old. She and he both watched as the colours faded back to a natural skin tone. It was almost cathartic. 

“Okay? All better now?”

Harry gave her a tentative smile as he nodded.

“Does anything else hurt?” She gave him a small inspection. “Toes? Fingers?” Her hands pressed against his ribcage gently. “That okay?” He nodded. “Does it hurt to breathe? When you move a certain way?” He shook his head. Hermione cupped his face and gave him a gentle, serious look. “If you ever get hurt, Harry, you must tell me. Right away. I’ll make the pain go away, okay, darling?”

“Okay.”

She smiled. “Good, now come on. You’ve got a bubble bath waiting.”

Harry smiled excitedly. 

Later, Harry sat in the middle of a big bed with a black comforter. He looked tiny amongst the heavy blankets and big pillows. He watched Hermione move about the bedroom, the only one Sirius’ flat provided, and hoped she wouldn’t be leaving him alone. He didn’t want to go to sleep in this bed. It was massive. Far too big. He was used to much smaller spaces. Despite how comfy the bed was, he didn’t think he’d be able to fall asleep with so much space around him.

Hermione seemed to sense his distress. She crawled into bed beside him and pulled him into her arms. He tensed and laid down with her. The lights flickered off. Hermione hugged him from behind, her body warming and comforting him all at once. Harry remained very still and very tense. He didn’t want to disturb her. 

She pressed a kiss to his head. “Sweet dreams, Harry.” 

Like a spell, Harry’s body slowly began to relax. Hermione’s sweet scent enveloped him and lulled him off to sleep. He dreamt of dancing lights and singing Christmas trees and Hermione smiling at him telling him ‘everything is going to be okay.’

Hermione did not fall asleep as quickly as her companion. She stayed up, laying very still as Harry slept. Eventually, the tears broke free. She cried. She cried for her family. For her parents, she’d never see again, the Weasley’s, and most importantly, Harry. She cried for her Harry she’d left behind and all their adventures that only lived on through her memories. She cried for the little Harry in her arms, entrusted to the only family he had left and abused for it. 

Her poor, darling Harry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (edited 30/10/20)
> 
> Thanks for all the kind reviews! I'm glad there are so many people that are liking this story. I'm still uploading what's already on ffn, so the chapters will come quickly. Once we're caught up, it'll get slower as I don't normally post this often. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> xx


	5. Chapter Five

## 

##  _ \- January 3, 1983 - _

The days with Harry passed quickly. He adjusted to Hermione’s presence with ease. The soft touches and warm affection that she doted on him slowly stopped making him tense and instead smile. They would sit and read together, or draw, or cook. Hermione had him helping her all about the apartment. 

Harry liked to help Hermione. She gave him soft hugs and sweet kisses in return and they made him feel warm inside. She always had a smile for him or a fun little spell to show. He loved watching her do magic. She had explained how she was a witch and apparently, his mother had been one as well.

Hermione claimed that she was married to his father’s best friend. Harry thought maybe that made them friends too. Hermione had said she was his best friend. She was his first friend and he loved her very much. He never wanted her to go away and he did his very best to be good, so she’d never want to send him back to the Dursleys.

Harry still cried a lot, Hermione noted. If he thought he’d done something she might dislike, it would instantly set him off. She had been quick to learn not to show her annoyance or displeasure around him, even if it wasn’t directed at him. He was very sensitive to her moods and expressions. It made her angry to know that the Dursleys had been so unkind to him that even a frown meant he thought he’d be punished.

Hermione worked on encouraging him to talk more and smile. She sat and read with him for hours. He liked the stories she read but preferred to look at the pictures of flying in the Quidditch books. Hermione tried not to be too annoyed about it. 

By the fifth day, she had sufficiently worn him down enough that he sought her out for a hug instead of waiting for one. Hermione had beamed at him and he’d quickly done it again. The two were joined at the hip. Completely inseparable. Everything was coming along perfectly.

It was on the sixth day that she received an owl from the Ministry. Sirius’ trial date had been set. It'd been difficult to get the ball rolling at first. She wasn't a lawyer and she knew very little about magical criminal law. She had more knowledge than she probably needed on creature law -- thanks to her third year and her attempts to save Buckbeak. 

In the end, she'd had to throw her name around a bit. She'd done most of her work through strongly worded letters and a few subtle threats that she felt would have been expected of someone corresponding with a Black. It had worked, thankfully, and Sirius' trial had been pushed up to just after New Years' Day. It was hardly enough time to prepare any sort of defence at all. Luckily, they didn’t have to prepare anything. 

On the day of the trial, Hermione dressed Harry up in wizarding robes. He spun around and giggled as the fabrics swished around his feet. Hermione smiled fondly at him. He looked up at her and smiled. “Pretty.”

“Thank you, darling.” She’d dressed up in her finest wizarding robes. The press would be there and probably everyone else in the wizarding world. She didn’t care much what they thought of her, but it would cause less of a stir if she showed up looking like a pureblood rather than a muggle in jeans and a jumper. Her hair was partially pulled back and the curls styled to coil perfectly. Not a frizz in sight — however long that would last. “Time to go.”

“Where?”

Hermione took his hand and led him to the door. “There’s a very important trial happening today. About Sirius…my husband.” It still sounded strange to her ears. “He’s going to come home today.”

“With us?” Harry pouted. 

Hermione smiled and lifted him up into her arms. “You’ll like him. He’s a brilliant wizard. He can turn into a dog.” Harry made a face. He was unconvinced. Hermione laughed and kissed his cheek. “Hold your breath and close your eyes, Harry.”

They apparated away a moment later.

The Ministry was packed. Hermione held Harry tightly as she pushed her way through the throngs of people. Her eyes lit up when she saw the tall, dark auror waiting for her.

“Kingsley,” she greeted with a smile and a nod.

The auror nodded back. His eyes fell on Harry. “And this must be Harry Potter. It’s an honour,” he told the little boy. Hermione pursed her lips at the wizard. Harry, for his part, hid his face in the crook of Hermione’s neck.

“We ought to be going.”

“Right this way.” He led her down the hall, away from the press and public. She was a witness and would be asked to sit aside with the others until called upon. “Technically, Harry can’t be with you.”

“I hardly think anyone will argue.”

“Not once they recognize him, no.”

They paused outside the doors to the courtroom. Hermione turned and gave Kingsley a significant look. “Did you get him?” Kingsley’s smile was vicious. Hermione nodded and sighed with relief. “Good. Alright,” she glanced down at Harry and kissed his head, “all ready?” He tightened his arms around her neck and pretended they were still in the apartment. Hermione figured it was the best she would get. This was all a bit much for him and they hadn’t even entered the courtroom yet. “See you in there,” she said to Kingsley before entering the room.

Eyes swung around when she entered and away again. No one knew her, not yet at least. She let out a steadying breath before she made her way to the witness's seating area.

The courtroom was a round amphitheatre styled room with rows going back for the Wizengamot to view the whole room. The main stage of the trial area sat at the centre of the room, behind it and leading towards the front of the room were rows of seats for witnesses and audience. It was not unlike a muggle courtroom. The only difference was that instead of a single judge raised above the court, the entire Wizengamot loomed over the proceedings. Hermione couldn’t help but note the relatively even number of men and women amongst the near fifty members of the Wizengamot. Though they had yet to arrive, their names were placed in gold plating before their assigned seats.

Hermione walked down the aisle to the front row of seats that had been set aside for witnesses. There were a few wizards there she didn’t know as well as, unfortunately, Walburga Black. The elder Black did not take notice of her and Hermione wondered how much of her memory of Hermione’s arrival had been erased.

Harry peeked out and looked around the room. The rows were steadily filling up behind them. Everyone and their aunt wanted to see the trial of Sirius Black. Hermione caught his attention with a kiss to his head. “I brought a book, do you want to read with me?” Harry nodded quickly. There were too many people in the room and he was growing more uncomfortable by the moment.

Hermione slipped the Quidditch book from her bag and Harry settled more comfortably in the centre of her lap as he looked through the pages. They whiled away the minutes with Hermione reading the small blurbs of information for him. She moved to put the book away when the Wizengamot filed in. 

“No,” Harry whined as she closed the book.

“It’s starting soon,” she whispered to him. Harry pouted. She sighed and opened the book again. It would keep him distracted, at least. The pages of the book flipped quietly as the loud murmurs of the large audience grew quieter. 

Albus Dumbledore sat regally in the seat of Chief Warlock. He cleared his throat and the entire room instantly quieted. “We are assembled here on the second day of 1983 to undertake the trial and possible execution of one Sirius Orion Black, via the dementor's Kiss.” Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Execution? Her head spun around to Kingsley. He didn’t look her way. Merlin’s beard, she had not been expecting execution to be on the table. She shook her head at her own stupidity. Of course, it would be, it had been in her third year as well and that had been over a decade after Lily and James’ deaths. It had only been a year. The wound was still very fresh and people were out for blood.

“Bring out the accused,” Dumbledore commanded in his soft but authoritative voice. 

Side doors swung open and Sirius Black was led into the courtroom. People gasped. Most grumbled or whispered hexes under their breath. He’d clearly been allowed to dress up for the occasion and she briefly wondered who had gotten him such expensive robes. Sirius caught Hermione’s eye and gave her a wink before swaggering towards his seat and sitting down. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. The image was ruined by the sight and sound of the metal chains around his hands and feet. Still, he seemed so at ease, one could easily miss them.

Hermione envied his nonchalance. She felt so wound up she might explode. Death was on the table. She had no idea what she would do if Sirius — no, it wasn’t going to happen. He would win his case.

Harry looked up at the raised voices and excitement but couldn’t see much past the wooden fence that separated them from the main floor. He looked down at his book again.

The persecuting juror, a Mr. Wilson Roden, rose and the proceedings began. The speeches were long and arduous. Most of it was simply pandering, lies, and a heavy amount of character slander towards Sirius. The crowd ate it up with relish. Everyone wanted to see Sirius get the Kiss. 

Harry fell asleep before they even got to the first witness. Hermione cradled the toddler against her chest, hiding his face against her neck. The fewer people that noticed the sleeping boy as The-Boy-Who-Lived the better. 

The first witnesses brought forth were from the night of the attack. Most there had been muggles that died in the explosion of magic, but a few had been wizards. They cried and pointed at Sirius, claiming him a madman and a murderer. Sirius stared straight ahead and pretended they didn’t exist.

The first person the defence brought forth was a character witness and surprisingly, it was Walburga Black. She rose, her nose so high she looked like she’d hurt her neck. The old witch was brought to the main floor where she sneered at her son before taking her seat before the Wizengamot.

“Please state your name and your connection to the accused, for the Wizengamot,” the defending juror, a young man named Gregory Knot, asked politely. Kingsley had recommended him after she asked. They needed someone who was willing to defend Sirius and she couldn't very well take Harry to Azkaban to ask Sirius who his family lawyer was. Most pure-bloods were represented by them in any sort of trial -- criminal as well. But when Hermione had put a request into the Wizengamot for the name to be released to her, she'd been resolutely denied. Dumbledore had written back with some petty excuse about women not being able to practice in the Wizengamot unless permission is given and that her ' _demand_ ' would not be met. Hermione was still steaming about it.

“Walburga Black. I am… _his_ … mother.” There were several grumbles from the assembled audience that Dumbledore quickly quieted with a raise of his hand.

“It would be fair, then, Mrs. Black,” Knot continued, “to claim that you know the accused very well.”

“I raised him.”

“Simply a yes or no will do, Mrs. Black.”

“ _ Yes _ ,” she hissed with narrowed eyes.

“What was Sirius’ character like, growing up?”

Mrs. Black rolled her eyes. “He was a terror. I knew right from the start he was going to be a terrible disappointment.”

The prosecuting juror smirked from behind his table. Knot cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. He recovered quickly. “How was it, that your son disappointed you, Mrs. Black?”

“He wouldn’t listen. He never did as he was told. Constantly playing pranks, making noise.”

Knot raised his eyebrows. “That sounds more like a little boy playing, to me.”

Mrs. Black crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air. “Perhaps for  _ your _ kind. A Black is to be respectable and proper at all times.” She levelled a fierce glare at her son. “A Black does not go off playing with  _ muggles _ .”

Knot hid his smile. “Muggles? Sirius Black, the accused, often played with muggles as a child?” Mrs. Black looked terribly upset about it, but confirmed nonetheless. “He was friends with them? He had amicable relationships with non-magical children?”

“Yes, it was abhorrent. I had Orion do something about it as soon as I found out.”

“Were you surprised, Mrs. Black, when your son was sorted into Gryffindor?”

“Horrified would be a better word for it,” she replied imperiously. 

Knot smiled kindly. “I can imagine. The Black family has never had a child outside of Slytherin house, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Did this cause tension in the household?”

Mrs. Black cocked her head to the side, her grey eyes studied the defending juror coldly. “Yes… but Sirius was properly punished for his betrayal to the family name.”

“Punished? Was he also punished for playing with muggles?”

“Of course,” the woman scoffed as if it were obvious.

“And did you think, Mrs. Black, that the frequent punishing you put upon your son would endear him to be more like the proper Black heir you wished him to be?”

Mrs. Black’s lip curled. She glared at the juror. Knot waited patiently for her to respond. Finally, Mrs. Black admitted, “No.”

“But the punishments continued?”

The witch raised her head in a manner that stated she thought herself far above everything in the court. “Children eventually learn their lesson. The punishments may not have made him see right but they showed him what he needed to know about our world. Muggles are beneath us.” There was a fair amount of annoyed grumbling at her words. “A lesson my son eventually learned. He turned in those filthy blood-traitors like he should have ages before.” 

Outrage in the courtroom. 

Harry flinched in his sleep and Hermione shushed loudly over the noise near his ear. He settled again as Dumbledore brought the court back into order. Mrs. Black sat regally, uncaring of the insults thrown her way. Hermione was disturbed to realize it was not unlike the way Sirius carried himself when they had first insulted him.

“Mrs. Black,” Knot began once the room was quiet again, “do you believe your son to be a full supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and all that He stands for?”

Walburga smiled proudly at her son who glared back. “Yes.”

“Mrs. Black, are you aware that your son married a muggle-born?”

Dead silence. A slow smirk slowly spread across Sirius’ face as he watched his mother go white, then red, and then purple.

Mrs. Black exploded in a fit of rage. She was on her feet, yelling and cursing Sirius who sat and smiled widely. He basked in her fury like it was a warm summer’s day. Hermione had to cast a silencing charm around Harry so he wouldn’t wake.

“Mrs. Black! Mrs. Black, please!” Knot tried in vain to get the old witch to settle down. She eventually gave up on yelling at Sirius and turned to leave.

“It was good seeing you too, you old bitch!” Sirius shouted after her.

“Burn in hell!” Walburga screamed at him. She stormed past Knot and went to her seat amongst the audience members. The air crackled with magic around her.

Knot turned to the Wizengamot. “I — uhm… no further questions, I guess.”

Dumbledore smiled in amusement and nodded. “It would appear so. Mr. Roden?” The prosecutor waved his hand. He didn’t want to question Mrs. Black. “Your next character witness, then, Mr. Knot?”

Knot nodded and collected his papers at his table. “Yes, uhm, next I’d like to call to the stand Mrs. Black — that is, Mrs.  _ Hermione _ Black.”

Hermione nervously rose to her feet. She could feel the daggers many were staring into her. The worst was to her right where Walburga sat. Holding Harry in her arms tightly, she made her way to the main floor. 

Sirius smiled at her, his eyes lingering on Harry. “Wife.”

“Husband.”

She took the seat to Sirius’ right, facing the Wizengamot.

“Please state your name and your relationship with the accused, for the Wizengamot,” Knot asked as he came out from behind his table to stand before her.

“My name is Hermione Jean Black and I am married to Sirius Black.”

“Mrs. Black,” Knot started when Hermione cut him off.

“Hermione, please, or Ms. Granger. I would like there to be some distinction between myself and my mother-in-law.” A loud huff told her Walburga was offended or simply asking for more attention.

Knot smiled kindly. “Of course. How old are you… Ms. Granger?”

“Seventeen.”

Knot nodded. “When did you and your husband wed?”

“Before the war ended,” Hermione answered carefully. She had gone through each of his questions two days ago and crossed off many that she wouldn’t be able to respond to under oath. She wasn’t allowed to lie, but she could skew the truth. Technically, Sirius and she had gotten married before the war ended — the  _ second _ war. 

“You were underage?” Hermione didn’t respond, that wasn’t a question she’d approved and she couldn’t answer it truthfully. “You aren’t in trouble for it.”

“Lots of people were in a panic,” Hermione responded slowly. “No one bothered to check.” A fact that was also true. When she and Sirius had been at the Ministry, no one had asked her how old she was. She definitely did not look to be of age.

A member of the Wizengamot sniffed and commented, “A terrible oversight.”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed, “almost as bad as sending a wizard to Azkaban without trial.”

The crowd broke out into murmurs. Sirius was smiling at her like she’d hung the sun for him. She hid her face in Harry’s hair. 

“Why is it,” Knot continued once there was some order again, “that you married Sirius Black?”

Another Wizengamot member snorted. “I think it’s rather obvious.” Hermione looked up at him and his imperious tone of voice. He was looking significantly at the black-haired bundle in her arms.

Hermione blushed madly. “That is not why we got married,” she protested. Eyebrows rose in disbelief. “I was being targeted,” Hermione explained through clenched teeth. She could feel Sirius' eyes boring into the side of her face. He knew she couldn’t lie. She knew he desperately wanted to hear her story — their story. “Sirius married me to save my life.”

“Targeted by who?” Knot asked before the Wizengamot could intervene again.

“You-Know-Who.”

Whispers broke out quietly, which were quickly hushed. “Why was He targeting you?”

Hermione opened her mouth. She closed it. This was not a line of questioning she had wanted to go down. She shifted in her seat uneasily. Finally, she sighed and explained, “In 1887, Albus Dumbledore achieved the highest OWL scores since Helena Ravenclaw. The only person to ever beat those scores was Tom Riddle, or as most know him: Lord Voldemort.” Hermione ignored the gasps of horror. Hermione met Dumbledore’s gaze as she declared, “I beat his test scores.”

Knot was nearly stunned into silence. “You - you beat You-Know-Who’s test scores?”

Hermione raised her head. “I did.”

“And He found out?”

She licked her lips and nodded. “The last thing the war needed was someone so smart on his side. The only other person to come close to doing what I did was Lily Evans. She married James Potter right out of school and was protected. I… I had no protection. I’m muggle-born. I have no wizarding relatives to hide behind. I needed someone willing to lay their life down for me.”

“And so Sirius Black married you to keep you out of the hands of the most feared dark wizard in history?”

Hermione turned and smiled at Sirius. She couldn’t read the expression on his face, but it somewhere between awe and curiosity. “He did.”

“Something like that would have no doubt put your husband in even greater danger during the war, no?”

Hermione tilted her head to the side. Responding was getting more complicated by the second. “We managed, for the most part.”

“Ms. Granger, do you believe your husband would betray the Potters?”

“No,” she responded immediately. “Sirius is loyal to a fault. James was his brother and Sirius would rather die than betray him. Lily as well. He would never hurt them.”

“Thank you, no further questions.”

Dumbledore nodded and turned to Mr. Roden, the prosecutor. “Your witness, Mr. Roden.” Knot returned to his seat and the older, oily form of Mr. Roden stepped forward. Hermione was instantly on guard. 

“You and Sirius have not been married for long, Mrs. Black.” Hermione scowled at his tone and the title. “And a great deal of that time Sirius has been in prison. How well do even know the accused?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Well, I was sleeping with him, so probably better than you.” Her comment gained her several reproachful looks but mostly just giggles and snorts. 

Roden glared at her. “And what do you think it says about your  _ dear husband _ that he was willing to marry an underage witch so readily?”

“I think it says that he is a brave and courageous Gryffindor that is willing to do whatever needs to be done to protect those around him.” Hermione knew she was getting worked up, but she couldn’t help herself. Sirius was a hero. They should be thanking him for his service like any war hero. “More than I can say for many who cowered instead of fighting in the war.” Harry squirmed in her arms as she leaned forward, her voice steadily rising.

“Then it was purely for your protection, was it? Sirius gained no personal enjoyment from your union together?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I would certainly hope he did… I know I did.”

Roden did not back down. “You honestly believe his decision to wed you had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted to get you into bed? Sirius was a well-known bachelor in his days post-Hogwarts. He has never had a serious relationship. He chose you, I’m assuming because you’re pretty and would be in debt to him.” Roden raised an eyebrow. “There’s very little a witch wouldn’t do for a man she was in debt to.”

Hermione shot forward, face filled with fury. “How dare you? You’re talking as if I didn’t have a choice!” 

Harry’s eyes blinked open and he rubbed at them with his little fists. He yawned and looked around. They were still in the big circular room, he noted, and Hermione seemed very upset about it.

“But you didn’t!” Roden was shouting at her. “You said yourself you are a muggle-born, you had no wizarding protection, you were underage. What choice did you have? Marry Black and do whatever he said or become a puppet for the Dark Lord. Either way, you would be getting screwed.” People gasped at his vulgarity.

Harry flinched at the man’s tone and Hermione held him against her chest tightly. “I did have a choice! Sirius was not my only option!” Harry looked over and saw a man in fancy black robes sitting in a chair. He looked furious, glaring at whoever was yelling at Hermione. “I chose Sirius!” Hermione shouted at Roden. “He did not choose me.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the furious looking man in the chair. He looked oddly familiar. Hermione and the other man continued to shout and normally such a thing would make Harry upset but… he knew that man in the other chair. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He wiggled out of Hermione’s arms and she barely noticed. She was still arguing with the unpleasant man standing over her. 

Harry shuffled closer to the man in the chair. Sirius’ eyes finally caught on Harry and his anger vanished. He watched Harry slowly inch towards him, a half-smirk on his face. Sirius leaned down when Harry grew closer and mimicked Harry’s serious face with narrowed eyes of his own. It was mocking and playful and Harry smiled. 

The little toddler thought he might just remember who this black-haired man was. He pointed his finger at Sirius’ mouth and slowly inched closer. Sirius watched him with mirth dancing in his eyes. When he got closer enough that he was nearly touching Sirius’ lips, Sirius snapped his teeth and pretended to try and bite the offered finger.

Harry jumped back and squealed in delight. He jumped up and down and turned to a shocked Hermione. “Padfoot! Padfoot! 'Mione! 'Mione! Is Padfoot!” He pointed at Padfoot as he jumped excitedly up and down.

Hermione shook her head. “Harry? What…” Harry remembered Sirius. That was not something she’d been expecting. 

“Harry?” an old voice carried through the shouts and whispers as people slowly began to realize the small boy was not a Black bastard but in fact The-Boy-Who-Lived. Harry turned to Dumbledore, who had spoken. “Do you know this man?” Dumbledore gestured to Sirius.

Harry nodded, a wide toothless smile on his face. “Is Padfoot.”

“And who is Padfoot?”

“My friend.”

A stern-looking wizard of the Wizengamot leaned forward as he asked, “Did Padfoot ever try and scare you? Hurt you perhaps?”

Harry frowned and shook his head. “No.” He looked at Hermione. “Play with Padfoot?” 

“Uhm… not right now, Harry.”

Harry pouted. “Please…” he whined.

“Harry,” Hermione emphasized, sternly but not unkindly. Harry hung his head and scuffed his shoe against the floor. He turned big, sad eyes up to his friend. Sirius smiled at him lovingly. Harry didn’t notice everyone watching him as he grinned at the older wizard and crawled up into his lap. The entire court was silent — most in horror, the rest in curiosity. 

Roden glared at the toddler. “No further questions.” Hermione sighed in relief. Roden had been asking very dangerous questions. She headed over to Sirius and Harry. When she bent down to pick up Harry, Sirius took her hand. 

“The rat?” he questioned quietly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow but she couldn’t hide her triumphant smile. “Patience is a virtue, mutt.”

He nodded once. “But apparently I have none, child bride.”

She glared at him. “I’m of age, hardly a child bride.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s called a joke.” She continued to glare. “How about a kiss for good luck?”

She continued to glare.

Harry rose up on his knees and hugged Sirius around his neck. He kissed the older wizard on his cheek. “Good luck,” he told Sirius sweetly. Sirius smiled at him. He turned back to Hermione and raised an eyebrow.

She sighed and rolled her eyes before leaning forward to kiss his cheek. Sirius turned his head and caught her lips with his own. The bond sparked between them, enticing Hermione to linger. She pulled back but couldn’t stop herself from licking her lips. “Bad dog,” she scolded. Hermione plucked Harry from Sirius’ lap who smiled at her shamelessly. The two returned to their seats amongst the rest of the witnesses. Everyone's eyes were on them.

“Quite the turn of events,” Dumbledore mused to the softly murmuring courtroom. He looked amiable but his eyes were hard on Hermione. She looked away, deliberately not meeting his gaze.

“This is ridiculous,” Roden argued from his table. “Harry Potter is barely older than a baby. He doesn’t know who Black is, he doesn’t understand what transpired when he was an infant. His account should be stricken from the record.”

“Your honour,” Knot interrupted, on his feet in an instant, “Mr. Potter may only be young, but his familiarity with the accused demonstrates Mr. Black’s character far better than any other witness here. He is, after all, The-Boy-Who-Lived.”

Dumbledore nodded along as members of the Wizengamot murmured in agreement. “That is true, that is true. However, character witnesses can go only so far and the kindest man can be driven to the worst extremes. Determining Mr. Black’s  _ character _ does very little for our purpose today, which is to determine his  _ innocence _ . Now, since you have no evidence to prove this, I think it’s about time—”

“Your honour!” Knot interrupted quickly. “I do. I have a witness with evidence that will prove Sirius Black’s innocence.” The crowd was absolutely silent.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes on Knot. “Well, then… proceed.”

Knot cleared his throat and shuffled his papers around on his desk for a moment. “I call auror Kingsley Shaklebolt to the stand, please.”

The tall, dark-skinned wizard rose up in his deep blue robes. He had a small wooden box at his side that he brought with him. He set it on the ground before his feet. Sirius’ eyes locked on the box, his eyes filled with such a burning rage that it left little doubt to Hermione who was inside.

“Auror Shaklebolt, you attended Hogwarts with Sirius Black, correct?” Knot began once they were past the formal introductions to the Wizengamot.

Kingsley nodded. “Yes, I was a few years behind, however. We didn’t have much contact since I was in Ravenclaw.”

“Of course, and were you assigned to the Potter’s case when that terrible night occurred?”

“No, I was not yet an auror. I’ve really only gotten out of training recently.”

“Can you please inform the court of the events that occurred on the night of December 20th, 1982?”

“I was in the office doing my usual paperwork. I’d been assigned to sort through the anonymous tips and leads that get sent in by post. It’s fairly dull work, a lot of it is people seeing things in the shadows. We’re all still fairly on edge.”

“Understandably so.”

“Of course. Well, an owl came through, which immediately had me on edge ‘cause they’re supposed to go to the owl directory. The owl was for me, but it was also anonymous.” Kingsley’s deep voice filled the courtroom, lulling the crowd back to a peaceful state. He had a magnificent aura, the young auror. He could move an entire room to his will, effortlessly.

“A person sent the note directly to you?”

“They did.”

“Did you open this note? What did it say?”

“It said, quite simply, ‘ _ Peter Pettigrew is alive. I can give him to you _ .’” There were several sharp intakes of breath. “I - I was stunned. I waited and suddenly the words changed on the note to a time and location. A clever bit of magic, really, the note destroyed itself seconds later.” Not unlike the way a Department of Mysteries’ note did. Hermione had been inspired, after all.

“The note is gone?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, you had no way to trace the note to its origin?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you meet with the person?”

“I did. They wished to remain anonymous and I intend to keep that promise.” Kingsley gave the lawyer and the Wizengamot a significant look. “I was told where to find Pettigrew and how he’d been hiding all this time.”

“And how is that, auror Shaklebolt?”

Kingsley turned and smirked at Sirius who raised an eyebrow back. “Turns out, Black and his friends had all become animagus whilst in school.”

Roden jumped to his feet amongst the stunned shouts of the Wizengamot. “Objection, your honour. This is preposterous. Not only is he claiming the hero Pettigrew to be a  _ traitor _ , but he is also suggesting  _ schoolboys _ could do what some of the most incredible of wizards cannot. Animagus,” Roden scoffed the final word as if it were a slur.

“Overruled,” Dumbledore stated calmly. He sighed under his breath and turned to Knot. “Proceed.” Hermione hid her smile in Harry’s wild hair at the back of his head. Dumbledore had clearly given in. It would be smooth sailing from here.

Sirius’ smirk did not fall from his face. He raised his eyebrows at Kingsley and nodded for him to continue. He didn’t like the idea of his secret getting out, but it was worth it if it meant Peter got thrown into that hole he’d been living in for over a year.

“Pettigrew was hiding in the form of a rat, at the residence of the Weasley’s as one of their children’s familiar. I went there and was able to identify him by his missing finger. Then, I used a spell that turned him human once more.” The crowd was steadily growing louder in confusion and outrage. Dumbledore was having trouble keeping them quiet.

Knot continued over the noise. “And did you bring Pettigrew with you now?”

“I did.” 

Knot gestured in permission and Kingsley stood. He waved his wand at the wooden box at his feet and muttered a spell. The box shook and glowed and quite suddenly, it broke. A pudgy, straw-haired and buck-toothed man formed into life from within the remains of the box. Peter Pettigrew cowered beneath the heavy stares of the Wizengamot.

There was a long moment of silence and then the room erupted in noise. No one was louder though than the furious shouts of Sirius Black. He moved as far forward as he could, chained to his chair as he was. He yelled and spat threats at his once friend.

“Traitor!” was his loudest cry of pain. “You bastard! You killed them!”

Harry pressed his face into Hermione’s neck. His tears wet her skin and she rubbed his back soothingly. He didn’t know what was happening, but he knew he’d never seen Padfoot look so scary. The room filled with loud noise and horrible shouts. Harry shook like a leaf. This wasn’t his Padfoot after all, he thought. His Padfoot would never act so scary. Hermione held Harry closely and shushed over the yelling of the courtroom. The toddler clutched at her as he cried. He really wanted to just go home.

Excited shouts surrounded them but all Harry heard were loud voices and Padfoot’s terrifying voice. “Innocent! Innocent!” the crowd cried together. 

Hermione held him tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, that finger biting game was something I grew up doing with my Papa and still did right up until covid life. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> xx
> 
> Updated with minor story changes in Dec. 2020 (story changes regard Hermione finding Knot as a lawyer and being unable to find a family lawyer)


	6. Chapter Six

##  _ _

##  _ \- January 3, 1983 - _

Harry was still crying. Hermione held the tiny boy and rocked him as she paced the quiet room.

They were in a small antechamber that Kingsley had brought her to once the trial had finally finished. People were everywhere. Reporters had big, flashing cameras just outside the room. Hermione was sure they’d snapped more than a few of Hermione and Harry. Harry had cried through it all and she was scared what the  _ Prophet _ might write about that. 

Sirius had been all but taken away after the proceedings. Papers needed to be signed and reparations were given. It wasn’t every day that someone was released from Azkaban — proven innocent. Actually, it was the very first time. 

Hermione stroked Harry’s hair as her mind wandered to that fact. Originally, Sirius Black had been famous for being the first man to escape Azkaban. Now, he was the first man to be proven innocent and set free from the horrid prison. No matter what, Sirius just had to be in the thick of it. She wondered if fate had a hand in it all. The man was simply not made to live in the shadows.

Harry was just finally calming down when the door opened. The toddler flinched as the room was filled with shouts and the sound of bulbs cracking as cameras flashed. Sirius slammed the door shut behind him and leaned against it as he let out a breath.

His eyes slowly raised from the floor and drew up the length of his wife and godson. “Sorry,” he winced when he noticed Harry shaking and crying into her neck, “like bloodhounds out there.”

Hermione offered a weak smile. Well, this was horribly awkward. She immediately moved into bossy-mode. “We need to get him home.” She nodded to the fireplace. “We’ll floo if that’s alright?”

Sirius stood and straightened his robes. He nodded once. “‘course.”

Hermione stepped up to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo powder. “Hold your breath, dear,” she whispered tenderly to Harry. He was silent but his tears still wet her robes. “And shut your eyes, this’ll be a bit different from apparating.” She threw the powder down and loudly called out the address for Sirius’ flat before they disappeared in a flash of bright green flames.

Sirius was only mildly surprised that they were staying at his flat. He grabbed some floo powder and followed immediately after. His eyes instantly locked on Hermione who was trying to settle a frustrated and unhappy toddler. She set him on the ground and cupped his face in her hands. Harry’s little hands fisted in her robes, refusing to let her go.

“It’s okay, love. We’re home now.” She stroked his face lovingly. “Everything’s okay.” 

Sirius took a deep breath, savouring her words. Everything  _ was _ okay now. It truly was. He didn’t have to go back. He didn’t have to suffer through the endless cold, the sadness, the terrible darkness that surrounded him. But he could still feel it, like a layer of grime over his skin. Perhaps it would always remain there.

Instead of allowing his thoughts to turn further down that dark road, he focused on the pretty witch still soothing the baby. Sirius revelled in the magnetic pull he felt drawing him towards her. He wanted to run his fingers through her curls and breathe in the chocolate and cherries scent of her. 

Hermione glanced towards him. She nodded to the bedroom. “Go clean up, I’ll take care of Harry.”

Sirius blinked. He turned his attention to Harry who was eyeing him warily. Tears still filled his bright green eyes. Lily’s eyes. Sirius’ chest ached and he looked away. Without a word, he turned and entered the bedroom. Through the next door, he entered the bath and stripped down.

Hot water.  _ Merlin’s balls _ , he hadn’t had a proper shower in ages. The rough scrub down he’d been given before Hermione’s visit and again before the trial certainly didn’t count. He stood under the steaming water for what felt like ages. His eyes closed and his mind focused on that little ball of magic at the centre of his heart — Hermione. 

The little witch actually did it. She got him out. Fuck. He owed her everything.

He couldn’t imagine what would have become of him if she hadn't done what she did. But Hermione could — Hermione  _ knew _ . Sirius shivered despite the heat of the shower. He suddenly felt inexplicably cold. His wife, his darling little child bride from the future. She knew him. She clearly knew Harry.

1979 was the date of birth he’d been told on that little purple letter. September of 1979. So, she was in the same year as Harry. Great. He married his godson’s schoolmate.

_ To protect her _ , a voice that sounded annoyingly like Lily reprimanded him. He banged his head against the tile. He hated that she was still his voice of reason. It hurt. His hands balled into fists against the tile and the tears fell unbidden down his face. 

_ James and Lily _ . Their deaths felt like an open wound. One of the many pitfalls of the dementors had been his inability to move past their deaths. He felt the pain of it over and over. Every time the room filled with cold, warning the dementors approach, he knew it would come. 

_ James and Lily _ . It was his fault. Peter may be in prison now, but if they’d only gone with James’ gut and chosen Sirius as the secret keeper… It was all his fault, Sirius knew. He was to blame, no matter what the Wizengamot said. Dumbledore knew it too. No wonder the old man had been willing to let him rot.

Sirius shivered under the hot water. Or perhaps it had gone cold. He turned off the water and grabbed a towel. The ball of magic in his heart guided him into taking a slow, deep breath. 

He exited back into the bedroom and opened up a dresser he didn’t recognize. The top drawer was filled with what could only be Harry’s clothes. The second was certainly Hermione’s and finally, at the bottom, he found some of his old things. He threw on the warmest things he could find.

Normally, Sirius was always warm. His animagus ability enhanced certain attributes, the least of which were sight, hearing, and smell. One of the many others was increased body temperature, not unlike werewolves. It was probably one of the only reasons he’d made it out of Azkaban without frostbite claiming one of his fingers or toes. 

But the chill plaguing him then was terrible. It felt bone-deep. He sighed as he ran a hand through his damp hair, longer than it had ever been before. He pulled it up into a bung to keep it out of the way. 

Perhaps he needed a drink.

His eyes opened. A drink. The thought of the burning warmth that a nice glass of fire whiskey would ignite in his chest was incredible. Warmth. He needed that warmth. 

Sirius exited the bedroom, his mindset on one thing: firewhisky.

He barely even noticed Hermione at first. His entire focus was intent on the cupboard next to the fridge where he knew a bottle of firewhisky would be hiding. Sirius, however, froze when the soft humming of his wife reached his ears. Hermione was standing in the middle of the kitchen in her sock covered feet, her wizarding robe abandoned. She was wearing a soft blue dress that swished as she swayed. Harry was on her hip and Sirius’ own wand waved from her other hand. She was a vision.

Hermione hummed softly as she waved his wand. Harry was watching her avidly. She turned and kissed his forehead as she moved away from the stove and to the counter. Harry smiled and snuggled into her.

Sirius felt like he was watching some muggle film. The fireplace crackled warmly in the living room and the heat filled the small, open flat. It felt… calm. He revelled in it.

Hermione finally noticed him a moment later. She blinked owlishly before turning her attention back to Harry. She gently placed him on his feet. “How about you go watch some tele while I finish up, okay?” Harry looked over his shoulder at Sirius. The two wizards eyed each other warily. Harry shot Hermione a worried look before he dashed around Sirius and made his way to the couch. The tele flicked on a second later.

Sirius didn’t know how to feel about Harry’s obvious distrust of him. He figured he deserved it. The kid’s parents were dead because of him, after all. His gaze followed Harry into the living room as his heart broke for the toddler. James and Lily should have been there as well.

A hand touched his own and warmth seeped into his skin. Sirius almost hissed in shock. His head whipped around and he stared wide-eyed at Hermione. Her big brown eyes looked up at him and for some reason, he didn’t feel the urge to find a drink. 

“Are you alright?” she asked softly. Sirius nodded shakily. Hermione didn’t look convinced. “Dinner’s almost ready. Can you set the table?”

“Sure,” he replied shortly, his voice coming out gruff. She smiled at him and the warmth from her touch spread through his chest. He stopped shaking. The second she let go of him, Sirius felt like the world had gone black and white. It felt like something was missing. 

Hermione bustled about the kitchen as she finished making something that smelled mouth-watering. He didn’t know what it was, but it would certainly be better than whatever crap he tried to make. Dutifully, Sirius pulled out the plates and set the table. He glanced towards the couch and saw Harry watching him before the little boy whipped his head back around to the tele.

“How…how long?” he asked her quietly. Hermione hummed and looked over her shoulder at him as she cut vegetables. “How long have you been here?”

“The day I saw you was when I arrived here.”

“I meant  _ here _ .”

Hermione shrugged a shoulder carelessly. “Pretty much the next day. I knew you had a flat but I wasn’t sure where.”

Sirius remembered the little card she’d given him before it suddenly vanished. It had said she appeared at Grimmauld Place of all places. “We didn’t… did we live at Grimmauld?”

Hermione briefly paused in her cutting. She glanced at him warily. “It’s complicated.”

Sirius scowled. “You say that a lot.”

“Well, it is,” she insisted.

His scowl turned into a glare. “I’m going to need  _ some _ answers.”

“Of course,” she replied tersely. She glanced over at Harry. “Later. Okay?” He wasn’t pleased with that response but gave a short nod nonetheless. Hermione turned back to the counter and waved Sirius’ wand. All the vegetables piled into a bowl to make a salad. She gave it to Sirius and he set it on the table. He finished setting the table as she took whatever was making that delicious smell out of the oven. 

“Harry,” Hermione called gently as she made her way to the couch. “Dinner is ready, go wash your hands.” The raven-haired boy jumped up and flicked the tele off. Sirius only just registered the fact that he hadn’t actually ever owned one before. Hermione must have gotten it. He blinked and looked away. 

The witch piled each plate with a thick slice of lasagne before floating the plates back to the table. Harry came out into the kitchen and Hermione picked him up to place him in a booster seat in the chair next to her own. Sirius sat across from them, observing them keenly.

Harry looked up at Hermione. “No spaghetti?”

She smiled and kissed his head. “No spaghetti. Today is Sirius’ special day so I made his favourite. It’s lasagne, you’ll love it.” Hermione placed a slice of garlic bread on his plate as she said this. She took her seat beside him. 

Sirius looked down at his plate. Lasagne. It  _ was _ his favourite. He opened his mouth to ask how she knew that before he remembered —  _ from the future _ . There was probably a whole host of things his young wife knew about him. And he knew her name. 

“Sirius?” He looked up from his untouched plate and met Hermione’s concerned look. “Is something wrong with the food?” she asked in a small voice.

He shook his head quickly. “No, it’s fine.” Something flashed in her eyes and Sirius quickly added, “Delicious.”

Hermione smiled nervously. “You haven’t touched it yet,” she pointed out weakly.

The cold was creeping in on him again. He fidgeted in his seat. “I’m not very hungry.” Hermione’s eyes rounded as they widened sadly. She looked so innocent and it made him feel old, dirty, and terribly alone. “Have we got any firewhisky?”

A line appeared between Hermione’s brows as she frowned. She softly shook her head. “Sirius…”

“It would go great with this meal,” he insisted, trying to inject some normality into his voice. He clenched his hands into fists to stop the shaking that had started up again. 

Hermione slowly reached across the table. Her finger touched his tightened fist and that was all it took to fight back the demons on the edge of his mind and soul. It was like a spark of heat at the centre of his chest. What had felt cold and dead was suddenly warm and full of life again. “Please eat something, Sirius.”

Sirius stared at her for a long moment. The warmth in his chest expanded outward slowly. Every time she touched him it got stronger. He nodded once and used his free hand to pick up his fork. Hermione began to slip her hand away and Sirius quickly caught her wrist before she could. He loosened his hold and gently took her hand in his own. He turned to his meal without a word. Sirius could feel her eyes on him as he began to eat but he didn’t look back up, nor did he let go of her hand. 

They held hands throughout the rest of dinner.

* * *

Sirius glared at the witch harshly as she closed the bedroom door. His entire body was tense. The anger rolled off of him in waves. Hermione had just finished putting Harry to bed, an action that apparently took a considerable amount of time. Sirius had almost thought the witch was going to leave him there awaiting answers until the sun rose.

Hermione turned and eyed him nervously. 

“Talk,” he ground out through clenched teeth. His body was shivering again and if it weren’t for the coldness in his chest he would have thought it was from rage. 

She winced and shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Sirius’ eyes glinted in the crackling fire. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe explain who the  _ fuck _ you are, how you got here, how you got your hands on my  _ godson— _ ” He cut himself off, breathing heavily. He crossed his arms over his chest but he still felt like he was freezing.

Hermione’s eyes grew impossibly wider and her shoulders hunched. “I - I’m Hermione…” she explained at a loss for how else to begin such an impossibly complicated conversation.

Sirius’ eyes narrowed. “Why did we  _ actually _ have to get married?” He wasn’t an idiot. He knew the little witch had left things out of her account at the Ministry. Omission of the truth was not the same as lying in a court of law.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest as she looked away. “There was this… a problem, I guess you could call it.”

“Oh, no,” Sirius interrupted with a dark look. “I am not the Ministry. You don’t get to choose words with me, witch. The  _ truth _ .” He stepped closer, his height and broad shoulders were easily intimidating. “Now.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t seem cowed by his anger. “He implemented a Marriage Law.”

“Who?”

“Voldemort.”

Sirius violently flinched back. He stared at her in horror. “He’s  _ dead _ .” Hermione didn’t say anything. Sirius stepped towards her imposingly, his anger flooding the room with heavy magic. “Tell me that the monster is dead.”

Hermione sucked in a breath between her teeth. Sirius’ sharp grey eyes pinned her where she stood. She nodded weakly. “He’s dead.”

Sirius breathed heavily. “But he won’t stay that way?” His eyes narrowed on her and Hermione bristled at the  _ accusation _ in his gaze — as if it were her fault. 

Hermione glared at him defiantly. She was not the one to blame for Voldemort’s resurrection. She simply had the pleasure of being the messenger. “Still want the whole truth?”

Sirius recovered quickly with an acidic glare. “Go on, child bride.”

Hermione’s mouth pinched. She did _not_ appreciate that nickname. “He had influence in the Ministry and we knew that but—” she looked down and her brows creased, “we didn’t realize how much.”

“Marriage Law?” Sirius’ tone could be considered scathing at best.

“It only affected of-age witches and wizards. Dumbledore suspected it was a way for the Death Eaters to get their hands on some of us in the Order -- or associated with, as the case may be with me.”

Sirius brought his hands down to his sides. They visibly shook as they clenched into fists. “And they thought that  _ I _ was a brilliant option for a little girl?”

Hermione’s cheeks pinked. “You didn’t seem all that upset when I was screwing you in Azkaban.” Sirius tensed. She huffed and shook her head, hands on her hips. “No one knew,” she revealed finally. “I used a time-turner when I was thirteen. I’m older than I’m supposed to be and the Ministry had me recorded as ‘of age.’”

Some of the tension left his shoulders at that revelation. “When did you find out?”

“The day before the law would be enacted,” she whispered. Her eyes dropped to the rug beneath her sock-covered toes. “One of the Order members had known. He didn’t say how but it was fairly obvious he’d kept the information deliberately.” She looked up and met Sirius’ confused face. “He wanted to marry me.” She was proud that her voice only trembled on the last word.

“An Order member?” Sirius questioned slowly. She was still being just a bit vague. What sort of man orchestrated a situation in which he was a poor girl’s last option? Not a good man, that was for sure.

Hermione nodded. “But you offered and I chose you instead.”

“Me?” he replied disbelievingly. “Why did I offer?” He wasn’t stupid. Sirius knew himself and offering himself up for marriage to a little girl was not something he’d ever offer in normal circumstances.

Hermione studied him for a long moment. “Harry is my best friend.” For a moment, Sirius almost looked like she had slapped him. “You and I know each other. We have for several years and… I guess you didn’t want me to end up with… him.”

“You guess?”

“I know.”

“I married my godson’s best friend?” He pointed to the bedroom where said godson slept peacefully within.

Her eyes teared. “I’m sorry.”

Sirius roughly dragged his hands through his hair as he began to pace. “Okay, no, that’s not weird at all. This is all totally normal.” Hermione winced and hugged herself. “And how did this lead to you getting here?”

“An accident,” Hermione responded as she wiped away nonexistent tears, “with a time-turner.” She shrugged weakly.

“Right. Of course.”

He was still pacing.

“Sirius?”

He froze and turned to her slowly. Hermione watched him nervously as he seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. “How long?” he asked quietly. “How long had we been married for before you got here?”

Hermione winced and looked down. “About a week?” He groaned loudly. “It’s not exactly like I planned all of this!” she whispered loudly. 

“ _ That _ is more than obvious.”

Hermione dropped her hands to her hips as she glared at him. “Oh? Is it? I’m sorry. Who just got you out of Azkaban in less than a  _ month _ ? Who got Harry out of the Dursley’s house? I got your flat together and made it a  _ home _ ! I may not have planned this but at least I’ve got my  _ shit _ together!” She pushed against his chest angrily.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“What does it sound like? Think, Sirius. For once in your life! If you’d thought before running off you never would have ended up in Azkaban!”

Sirius' eyes darkened as he took an imposing step forward. “You want to say that again, princess?”

She took a step closer as well, uncowed by his imposing stance. “Harry never would have ended up in that place if you’d just used your brain.”

“Why you little—”

“He lived in a cupboard!” she half-whispered, half yelled at him. Sirius froze. “You’re his  _ godfather _ . The second James and Lily were gone he should have been your top priority, not  _ revenge _ ,” she sneered the last word. Tears gathered in her eyes. Her throat felt swollen. “He never should have ended up there,” she hissed as her fists shook at her sides.

Sirius’ eyes went cold and dead. His anger moved inwards in a flash. He stepped back. The tension between them fizzled and snapped like a poorly brewed potion. His nose tilted up and that carelessly aristocratic look she had once admired was levelled at herself.

“Well,” Sirius responded coolly, “it’s a good thing he's got you now, isn’t it?”

Hermione wilted. “ _ Sirius _ .”

“I’m tired,” he dismissed as he looked away. He moved the pillow to the end of the couch and pulled down the throw that was hung over the back. 

“Sirius, wait—” He turned and fixed her with an emotionless stare. Hermione hesitated. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t you?” She opened her mouth but Sirius continued before she could respond. “I don’t blame you. You’re right. At least we’re all on the same page about how much of a raging fuck up I am.”

And Hermione felt like a complete piece of shit. She opened her mouth again but was interrupted once more as the bedroom door opened. Hermione and Sirius both turned to see Harry standing in his light blue pyjamas. He had tears streaming down his cheeks. His bright green eyes were fixed solely on her.

“'Mione,” he whimpered, his hands raised into the air for her.

Hermione immediately went to the toddler. “Did you have another nightmare, darling?” she asked as she picked him up. Harry wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his face into her hair. He nodded mutely.

Hermione kissed his head and stroked his hair gently. She glanced over at Sirius but he had curled into the couch, the blanket was wrapped tightly around his shoulders and his back was facing her. Hermione sighed but resolved to deal with it in the morning.

Harry was her number one priority and wasn’t that suddenly a bitter pill to swallow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kind reviews! They fill me with butterflies 🥰 Thanks for reading!
> 
> xx


	7. Chapter Seven

##  _ _

##  _ _

##  _ _

##  _ \- January 16, 1983 - _

Harry had his face pressed up close to the small oven door as he watched the gooey cookies rise. 

“Harry, away from the oven.” He took a step back but kept his eyes on the prize. Hermione set her hands on her hips and huffed in amusement. She came up behind him and hugged him close. He leaned into her body as she felt the warmth on his face with her hands. “You’re going to get a tan,” she teased.

Harry giggled.

A huff sounded from the couch. Harry immediately tensed. He glanced towards the scruffy-looking figure on the other side of the apartment. Sirius ignored them, as usual, whilst still managing to be the centre of attention. 

Harry shifted uneasily. A week had gone by and the young boy had still not adjusted to the new addition to the home.

Hermione tickled Harry’s tummy gently to get his attention. His eyes quickly shifted to her. “Let’s draw together, okay? The cookies need time.”

“Okay,” he responded quietly. Harry took her hand and followed her to the kitchen table. Harry had been particularly subdued since Sirius’ return. Hermione had been both unsurprised and dismayed at the mutual apathy the two seemed to display for one another. She knew Harry was skittish on the best of days but Sirius had no excuse. He had no excuse for any of his terrible behaviours in the last two weeks. 

Banging doors, dark grumblings; Sirius had made his displeasure with his wife more than abundantly clear. Sirius and Hermione’s argument the first night had been one thing, but the argument that had ensued after Hermione’s declaration of an alcohol-free flat had been something else altogether. Harry had hidden in the bedroom closet for four hours, only to be coaxed out by treacle tart and warm hugs.

From that moment on, Sirius had refused to acknowledge Harry and Hermione. He wallowed like the man-child he was. And she was his misplaced child bride, she thought bitterly. 

“'Mione, use blue,” Harry ordered as he took her brown crayon away and replaced it with the other colour. 

“On the monkey?” she asked as Harry coloured a lion green.

He nodded. “Yep.”

“Yes,” she corrected.

“Yep.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled fondly. “Is blue your favourite colour?” she asked as she stroked his fringe out of his eyes. So far, the toddler had cried any time she so much as suggested a haircut, but Hermione had a sneaking suspicion it was more of a Slytherin tactic rather than genuine fear. 

Harry shook his head as he continued to colour. His knees were bent beneath him on the chair as he leaned over the table. “What’s your favourite colour, sweetie?”

Harry paused and scrunched his nose up as he thought. Hermione smiled at him lovingly. “Purple,” he finally decided.

“Purple?” He nodded and shrugged as he looked back down at his colour book. His answer tended to change daily. 

A knock came from the door. All three occupants of the flat froze and turned collectively to look at the door. No one had knocked on the door… ever.

Another knock.

Nervously, Hermione rose from her seat. She hesitantly pulled the door open.

“Professor!” None other than Professor McGonagall herself stood on her doorstep. The professor raised an eyebrow at Hermione. The witch blushed, immediately chastised. “Please, come in.” Hermione stepped back to let her professor through. She closed the door and smiled awkwardly as the elder witch looked around the large, square apartment. 

“Harry,” Hermione called for the toddler’s attention even though his eyes had not left her, “come say hi to Professor McGonagall.”

Harry slipped off his chair and immediately ran to Hermione’s side. He wrapped his arms around her leg and buried his face into her thigh. “ _ Harry _ ,” she chided gently. He did not budge.

Professor McGonagall was unfazed. She gave a rare, gentle smile to the son of two of her favourite students. “Hello, Harry. You’re looking very well.” If Harry responded, it was muffled in Hermione’s jean-clad thigh. “I’m sorry I missed Christmas, but I brought this for you.” From her robes, she pulled out a bright red gift with white ribbons. 

One bright green eye poked out from the curve of Hermione’s thigh. “Oh, look at that!” Hermione exclaimed brightly. She took the present and looked down at Harry. “What do we say to Professor McGonagall, Harry?” The young boy mumbled something into her thigh. Hermione gave her professor an awkward smile. “Thank you.”

McGonagall’s smile was noticeably tighter when aimed at Hermione. The young witch tried not to let it affect her. “Is Sirius here?”

Hermione’s lips pursed. “The lump is doing a fantastic impression of a couch bump.” She gestured towards the living area. 

The professor turned towards the couch where Sirius was looking over the arm, his grey eyes wide. Minerva nodded towards the sliding glass door and without a word, they both moved to exit onto the balcony. 

The sliding glass door clicked shut behind them. Minerva waved her wand and quickly cast both silencing and warming charms around the balcony. She turned to her favourite student. “Let me get a look at you.” Sirius’ shoulders hunched, not unaware of his unshaven face, still uncut hair, and the dark circles under his eyes. His hands were shaking at a level that had actually become uncontrollable. “Sirius Black. You look like complete rubbish,” she announced. Sirius sighed. She wasn’t wrong. Minerva’s expression turned pinched. “Oh, my boy. I was so worried about you.”

She wrapped her arms around the young wizard and pulled him into a tight hug. Her shoulders shook and Sirius was faced with the completely incomprehensible situation of a sobbing Professor McGonagall.

“Hey, shh…” he immediately soothed. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. He absently noted that Minerva's touch did not provide the same level of warmth and comfort that Hermione’s did. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

Minerva pulled back with a fierce glare. “Don’t you dare lie to me, young man. I’m not a fool. I’m well aware of what Azkaban does to a person. How are you coping?” Her eyes flickered over his form, her expression telling him she didn’t think he was coping much at all. 

Sirius knew there was no point in lying to her. “I’m not,” he despaired. “All I want is to bury myself at the bottom of a bottle but little  _ Mrs. Black _ over there refuses to have alcohol in the house.” He shot the curly-haired witch a glare. She was checking on the cookies with an excited Harry.

“Smart witch.”

Sirius scowled at the professor. “Who’s side are you on?”

Minerva rolled her eyes. “Alcohol won’t heal you. Only time, love, and family will do that. Why are you wasting away on the couch? You have Harry to think of and that sweet little lass.” Sirius’ single comment about keeping him sober had clearly won Minerva over. He snorted at her description of Hermione. “What?”

“Do you recognize her?” he asked pointedly, a cruel little grin on his face.

“Well, no, of course not,” she responded, slightly flustered at the question. 

“Funny, that. How you don’t know her but she was a student at Hogwarts. A Gryffindor too, I think.”

Minerva turned and fixed the young Mrs. Black with a fierce stare. Her eyes flickered over every inch of the witch as her mind raced at the implications of Sirius’ words. She turned back to the young man she thought of as her son in all but blood. “Explain.”

“She’s from the future.” Her eyes widened and she blinked quickly. “She’s the same bloody age as Harry. They went to school together. They’re bleeding best friends.”

Minerva blinked rapidly. “How did she get here?”

“Accident with a time-turner. She was attacked, I think. She hasn’t said anything about it, but I owled Kingsley. He and Moody were called in when my mother was screeching about an intruder. Hermione was at my family home. She had bruises on her neck like someone had tried to choke the life out of her.” He didn’t mention that she had also been covered in lovebites and that she’d been wearing nothing but his band shirt. 

“I don’t understand. Did you meet her before the end of the war? And then married her?” That’s what Hermione had said at the trial, so Sirius didn’t blame his teacher for believing it. After all, one couldn’t lie in a magical trial.

Sirius took a deep breath. “The first time I met my wife, I was in Azkaban chained to a chair and we were already married. She married my future self.”

Minerva turned and stared at the young witch. She still by the oven with Harry, smiling and talking with the little boy. Her face was free of makeup, her curls piled up on her head and putting her youth on display for the world to see. “But… she’s just a girl.”

Sirius felt his heart constrict. Yes, she really was. She was a very intelligent and mature girl, especially given all she had accomplished in such a short amount of time -- both her own and this one -- but she was still just a girl. “There were extenuating circumstances,” he explained. “She wasn’t exactly lying during the trial. Apparently, I did save her. She was set up to marry some creep and I stepped in.”

“And now she’s here,” Minerva finished, still watching the witch.

Sirius sighed, also watching as Hermione and Harry put another batch of cookies in the oven. “Yeah.”

Minerva turned back to Sirius. “And the first thing she did after getting Harry away from those horrid muggles was saving you.” Sirius didn’t have a response to that. Minerva raised an eyebrow at him. “Have you thanked her yet?” He winced. “Oh, Sirius. Get your head out of your arse and realize what’s in front of you. Wasting away, waiting for a bottle of rum to fall into your lap isn’t going to fill that void in your heart. It’s the two people in that flat there. You need to pull yourself together.”

“What’s the point?”

She slapped him.

“Oi!”

“Look in there,” she demanded. He did, and his heart ached a bit at the sight of Hermione tickling a laughing Harry. “She is just a child herself and she’s raising that boy all on her own and you can’t take the time to have a bloody shower? Do you think you’re the only one upset and hurting? You just told me she’s from a good 15 years or so into the future and you’re wallowing around like you’re life's in ruins?

“That girl will likely never see her parents again, her siblings, her friends, her bloody familiar if she has one. She has lost everything. The least you could do is help her not drown beneath the trials of motherhood. For once, Sirius, my dear loving boy, think about someone else.”

“Minnie…” he sighed. She always told him exactly what he needed to hear, even if he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to face Hermione and Harry. He didn’t want to face the repercussions of mistakes he had made in the past and apparently ones he had made in the future.

Minerva stepped closer and gently cupped Sirius’ face in her hands. “I love you, with all my heart. If I had a son I’d want him to be just like you.” Her eyes shined with unshed tears as she said this and Sirius felt his heart constrict again. “And if you were my son, I would slap you again for acting so foolish.”

He grinned, despite himself. “But… how do I get over the… effects of Azkaban?”

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “Have you tried asking your wife?” Sirius’ confused stare was the only response she received. Minerva sighed and rested her hands on his shoulders. She gave him a comforting squeeze. “She got you out, Sirius. I’d assume that means you weren’t released in her timeline. You must have suffered the symptoms there, probably significantly worse if you’d been exposed longer. Maybe there’s a reason she isn’t letting you near alcohol.”

He hadn’t thought of that.

“Please, just promise me you’ll try.”

Sirius sighed and looked up. She knew he wouldn’t say no. He couldn’t say no to her. She was the mother he had always wished for and had somehow been lucky enough to have had through their seven years at Hogwarts together. “Where do I start?” he asked when he met her gaze once more.

“Eat some food,” she instructed briskly. “Drink lots of water and exercise every day. Do anything and everything that couple possibly make you happy, that  _ isn’t _ detrimental to your health. Talk to your wife. Spend time with your godson. My darling, enjoy your freedom.”

Sirius wrapped her in a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“I will be checking on you again,” she informed him sternly. “Owl me, you’ll visit during a Hogsmeade weekend and you’ll bring your family along. That is non-negotiable.” She stuck a finger under his nose to make sure he understood these were not terms to be played about with.

Sirius smirked and saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Have you spoken with Remus?”

He shook his head. “I sent a letter but it only came back. I’m not sure where he is. I suspect once he sees all the papers he’ll come running, though.”

“Good. Bring him too.”

Sirius chuckled. “Sure. Thank you again, Minnie.”

“Anytime.”

Minerva turned and entered the flat again. Sirius stayed out on the balcony. The older witch smiled kindly at Hermione and Harry when she stopped by them in the kitchen. Her smile was significantly warmer on Hermione than it had been only minutes earlier.

“I think I’ll be on my way out now,” she told them. “Thank you for having me.”

Hermione looked down and gave Harry a pointed stare. He swallowed and raced forward with a little brown paper package. “For you,” was all he said before darting back to Hermione’s side.

“Thank you, Harry,” Minerva responded kindly.

“They’re cookies,” Hermione explained awkwardly. “A thank you for the present… and for stopping by.” Her eyes flickered to Sirius as he finally entered the flat from the balcony.

“I hope I helped.”

“Me too.”

Minerva turned her attention to Harry and gave him a warm smile. “It was lovely seeing you again, Harry. I hope it happens again sometime soon.”

She turned and was nearly at the door when Hermione shouted, “Tea!” Professor McGonagall froze and turned back, a single eyebrow raised high in question. Hermione shifted nervously on her feet. “Uhm… we could have tea, all of us… if you like? I’m sure that… Harry would love it.” McGonagall studied her for a long moment. Hermione’s face turned red. “I - I know it gets busy at school, but perhaps once classes let out -”

“- I’ll send an owl.”

Hermione’s eyes teared and she smiled brightly. “Lovely.”

Minerva gave the younger witch a long look. “It was wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Black.”

“Hermione,” she insisted.

“Hermione.”

“Have a safe journey back, professor.” Minerva smiled and nodded her head once before departing. 

Hermione smiled to herself, a tear rolling down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly before Harry could see and get upset. She wasn’t quick enough though, and Sirius caught sight of it from the other side of the apartment. The animagus stared after her as Hermione put on a happy smile for Harry once more.

* * *

He’d showered. He’d actually showered. Shaving was involved. He’d somehow gotten a haircut -- had he left the flat? He was wearing proper clothes again and the couch was cleared off during the day once more -- only turned back into a bed at night. It was miraculous. Hermione seriously considered sending Professor McGonagall a basket of her favourite biscuits.

It was a total 180. Sirius had gone from despondent to trying to achieve in less than 48 hours. It wasn’t even fair. The same sort of turn around for Hermione would have involved at least one mental breakdown, a severe scolding from a third party, and a boat full of hair potions.

She wasn’t entirely fooled. She knew a lot of it was an act. But she was also aware that half the battle for future Sirius had been putting up the act to start the healing process. She remembered him telling her that one day he realized he wasn’t acting anymore, and he wasn’t entirely sure when he’d stopped. It had simply happened. 

Hermione hoped this younger Sirius would have the same epiphany. For now, he was making efforts around the flat and tentatively restarting a bond with Harry. The toddler was skittish at best but no longer raced away when Sirius looked in his direction. He still clung to Hermione’s side and Hermione wasn’t going to leave the two alone just yet, but the fact that Sirius was even trying meant the world. 

* * *

_ The forest was dark. Fog filled the spaces between the trees. Shadows crept from the depths of the woods. It was freezing. The cold filled him. The darkness fueled him with power. He ghosted across the forest floor -- floating -- flying.  _

_ A twig snapped. _

_ He stilled. A creature lay further beyond. The darkness swallowed it. Bright yellow eyes fixed on him. He pounced. _

_ The creature screamed shrilly. Blood splattered across the forest floor. The creature struggled. It released a high keening sound. Its legs twitched. Magic flowed through the creature’s blood. He drank it in -- let the blood and magic fill him. _

_ More. He needed more. More blood. More magic. More. _

Harry gasped awake. His face crumpled and tears immediately began to stream down his cheeks. The bedroom was dark like the forest had been. His forehead hurt and he pressed a hand to it. 

Harry turned to Hermione for comfort but she was fast asleep. He eyed her in the darkness of the room, aware he had woken her up the past three nights in a row. She had been sleepy all day. 

He sniffled and wiped his tears away. He didn’t want to make Hermione anymore sleepy or sad. She got a lot sadder when she didn’t sleep. He wasn’t sure what she had to be sad about but he didn’t like seeing it, all the same. She smiled less when she was sad and Harry liked Hermione’s smiles.

Quietly, Harry slipped out of the bed. Maybe a glass of milk or a cookie would make it right. Maybe three cookies.

The door creaked as it opened. Harry stuck his head out and froze when his eyes met steel grey ones. Padfoot was awake. The older wizard raised an eyebrow at the toddler, an amused smirk crossing his face. He nodded towards the couch in invitation. Harry slipped out of the bedroom and edged towards where Sirius was sitting. 

“Can’t sleep?” Sirius asked. He set his book down on the table as he turned his full attention on Harry. Harry shuffled his feet, his fingers playing with the bottom of his sleep shirt. It had spaceships on it. He shook his head and looked down. “Nightmare?” Harry nodded, his eyes still on the floor.

Sirius eyed the young boy for a long moment. “Why didn’t you wake Hermione?”

“She sad,” Harry whispered. He looked up and Sirius had to suck in a breath when he was hit with the full force of those big emerald eyes. “I no like 'Mione sad.” He earnestly shook his head as he said that and Sirius’ heart constricted. He was such a sweet, perfect little boy. James and Lily would have cherished him.

Swallowing down his tears, Sirius stood. He walked around the couch to the kitchen. Harry ducked around the arm of the couch and watched as Padfoot pulled down the cookie jar. He turned and wiggled his eyebrows at Harry. The little boy smiled brightly in return. 

“Milk?”

“Please.”

Sirius brought the cookies and milk over to the couch and the two wizards settled in front of the tele. Harry picked up the remote and turned the muggle contraption on. He flicked through the channels like a pro before settling on an old episode of  _ Doctor Who _ . 

Sirius smiled sadly, remembering one of James’ long rants about the complexity and ingeniousness of the sci-fi show. “A fan of this one?” He passed Harry a chocolate chip cookie.

Harry nodded and accepted the cookie. His eyes were on the tele. 

“Your dad liked this show.”

Harry’s head whipped around to Sirius. “Daddy?”

It felt rather like someone was squeezing Sirius’ heart in a fist. “Yeah,” he choked out. “Your daddy. James. He loved this show.”

Harry smiled sweetly. “I like it,” he reiterated and turned back to the tele, clearly happy that he had something in common with his absent father.

Sirius smiled at the simple acceptance Harry had at such news. He figured the little boy would become more interested in stories about his parents when he was older. Sirius figured that all Harry’s paternal yearnings had pretty much been answered with the arrival of Hermione. When he was old enough to understand the absence of his biological parents, there would be questions. Sirius suddenly determined that when that moment arrived, he wanted to be ready for it. He wanted to be willing and happy to share stories about James and Lily. He would be.

Sirius opened the milk bottle and took a long gulp. Harry eyed him warily. “Bad, Padfoot.”

Sirius snorted. “Because I didn’t use a glass? But if you use a glass,” Sirius reasoned, “you’ll have to wash one.” He offered Harry the bottle.

Harry considered the other man’s words for a long moment before obviously deciding them to be wise. He nodded once and placed his cookie on his lap. He accepted the bottle of milk in both hands before slowly tipping it to his lips. He watched Sirius as he slowly raised the bottle, scared to spill. Sirius placed a hand under the bottle and helped him tip it up so he wouldn’t make a mess. 

Sirius placed the glass bottle back on the coffee table. Harry smiled and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. They went back to their cookies.

About three episodes and four cookies each later, the bedroom door opened. Both boys froze like guilty children when Hermione appeared. She squinted at them, clearly still half asleep.

“What’re you two doing up?” She looked between the milk, cookies, tele, and the boys. She sighed. “It’s  _ three in the morning _ ,” she scolded. 

Sirius winced. 

Harry bravely stood and walked over to the irate witch. He held up a cookie for her. It had a little bite taken out of it. “Cookie?”

Hermione took one look at his big green eyes and her shoulders slumped. Harry smiled brightly. He took Hermione’s hand and led her over to the couch where she plopped down next to her husband. Harry climbed onto her lap and picked up another two cookies. He handed one to Sirius and kept the last one for himself. 

Sirius turned to Hermione, awe clearly written across his face. “He’s  _ good _ .”

Hermione snorted. “You have  _ no idea _ .” She smiled, thinking of all the scrapes Harry had gotten her and Ron into and then out of again with those big green eyes. “One episode,” she claimed sternly to the both of them. The three settled back into the couch and watched as the theme of  _ Doctor Who _ whined out of the television set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> xx


	8. Chapter Eight

##  _ _

##  _ _

##  _ _

##  _ \- February 28, 1983 - _

Sirius hummed and snuggled closer to the body of warmth in his arms. The scent of cherries filled his nostrils and he breathed deeply. His entire body felt warm. It was the first time he’d woken up without shivering since Azkaban. It was also the first time he hadn’t been plagued with nightmares.

Sirius nuzzled the soft curls by his face. They were light and brought forth an even stronger scent of cherries. The woman in his arms hummed and shifted. A perfectly rounded arse pushed back against his morning erection and he growled in response. His hand curved around her hip and dipped toward the junction of her thighs. She released a breathy moan and -

_ BANG _ .

Sirius and Hermione shot up.

“Harry!” the latter called as she pushed her nightgown down. The two looked over the back of the couch to see Harry standing in the centre of the kitchen, surrounded by broken glass. He looked up at them, big fat tears were just on the verge of falling. 

Hermione jumped to her feet. “Are you okay, sweetie?” 

Harry’s tears immediately fell. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed.

Sirius caught her elbow before she almost stepped on a piece of glass. “Wand?”

“Bedroom,” she responded with a wave of her hand in that direction. He disappeared while Hermione raised her hands in a placating gesture to the toddler. “Don’t move, Harry. Sirius went to get the wand. Once the glass is cleared, you can move.”

Harry twisted his hands into the bottom of his shirt as silent tears fell down his cheeks. Sirius returned a second later and wordlessly waved his wand. The second the glass disappeared, Hermione raced forward. She lifted Harry into her arms and pressed kisses to his wet cheeks.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” She turned her attention to the state of the kitchen and a smile stretched across her face. There were cereal bowls, glasses, and fruits on the counter. A chair had been pulled from the kitchen table and pressed against the counter. “Were you trying to make breakfast?” She ran her fingers through his hair and pressed more kisses to his face. “That’s so sweet.” Harry pushed his face into the crook of her neck and tightly wrapped his arms around her shoulders. 

“It was a glass,” Sirius explained, twirling the reconstructed object between his fingers. 

“‘m sorry,” Harry mumbled. Hermione kissed his head.

“Hey, mate,” the older wizard soothed. “It’s fine. Look.” He held up the glass. “Good as new.”

Harry pulled away from Hermione to rub his eyes. He looked up at Sirius sadly. 

“There’s nothing to be upset about. We’ve got  _ magic _ .” He turned and tossed the glass into the middle of the kitchen tile where it immediately shattered. Harry flinched and Hermione gasped.

“Sirius!” she scolded.

The wizard waved his wand and the glass pieces flew back together before soaring across the kitchen and back into his hand. Harry’s eyes widened. Sirius handed him the cup. “You try.”

Hermione looked like she wanted to protest but bit her tongue. She eyed Harry, curious to see what he would do. He stared at the cup in his hand for a long moment before he tossed it into the kitchen. He flinched when it cracked loudly against the tile.

Sirius waved his wand and caught the newly made cup once again. He wriggled his eyebrows and smirked. “See?”

Harry giggled. He reached for the glass again, but Hermione intercepted. 

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” She set Harry on his feet again. “Let’s have breakfast, shall we?”

Sirius waved his wand and everything Harry had pulled out quickly reassembled itself on the kitchen table. Hermione helped Harry into his booster seat. She poured both of them cereal before sitting down beside him.

“Do you have plans today?” Sirius tentatively asked.

Hermione looked up and tried to hide her shock. “Uhm… we’re low on groceries?” She shrugged. Neither of them had a job, not that they were short on money. Sirius had more than enough money to keep them living comfortably for generations. Even if they didn’t have the money, it wasn’t like Hermione exactly had any NEWTs to get a job.

“And we need another wand.”

Hermione’s cheeks turned pink. “Right. You probably want yours back.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “It’d be nice.” He sounded nonchalant but he hadn’t let go of his wand for a second since picking it up again. 

She nodded. “We could… Did you want to go with us? Or did you have… plans?” She couldn’t even begin to imagine what he might have planned. He’d done nothing but mope for the better part of two weeks. Only the past couple of days had shown any sort of improvement in him.

“Well, I wanted to go for a run. I was sort of hoping we could go to the park… all three of us.” His eyes darted up to her before going back to his bowl of cereal.

Hermione couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “Really? That sounds lovely.” She turned to Harry and smoothed his wild hair down. “Doesn’t that sound nice, sweetie?” Harry’s eyes flickered up to her but he didn’t say anything, his mouth full of cereal. Hermione turned back to Sirius. “Did you want to go to Diagon Alley first? We can get a wand for me and some snacks for the park.”

“Alright,” he grinned at her and a flash of that sexual charisma she recognized from his older self shone through. Hermione’s cheeks turned pink. “I’m going to hop in the shower.” He set his spoon down and sent her a wink before disappearing into the bedroom.

Hermione’s cheeks remained pink after he’d left. The charm that sparkled off of him this morning was so remnant of the Sirius she once knew and she didn’t know how to react. Even after Sirius had cut his hair and shaved his beard, he’d still lacked something. She wasn’t sure what the difference was between today and yesterday, but she hoped it would last. 

After Sirius showered, Hermione got Harry and herself ready. She was a little worried about taking Harry into Diagon Alley for the first time. Despite living on the Alley in Sirius’ little flat, Hermione had only ventured into the muggle world with Harry so far. She didn’t want to expose Harry to all the ridiculous fame he’d find in the magical world. His only foray into wizarding society had been Sirius' trial, which had ended in tears.

Harry was much more stable now than he’d been then. She was fairly confident he’d handle Diagon Alley well, mostly because he was so fascinated by magic. Nothing made Harry pause in awe or laugh with glee faster than a little spell or magical spark. 

An hour later, the three of them were leaving the flat for the first time in weeks -- bar any quick trips to the muggle grocer. Harry held Hermione’s hand tightly as they headed down the steps and out the door onto the busy street of Diagon Alley. 

Both Harry and Hermione paused apprehensively. Neither of them had spent much time in the magical world -- not in this era, at least. Sirius was no better off. He’d spent the last year in Azkaban, which had not exactly helped his trust and paranoia. Strangers were daunting to him, to all three of them.

Christmas holidays were long over and the streets weren’t as busy with the students back in Hogwarts. There were still a lot more people than any of them were used to. They stood at the side of the street as the people passed by. All three of them were frozen with fear. 

Sirius wrapped a comforting arm around Hermione’s waist. The two shared a look while Hermione squeezed Harry’s hand. Together, the three of them ventured out into the world. 

There were stares. The second a person noticed it was Sirius Black, everyone knew. The whispers quickly followed the stares. Then suddenly, they noticed Harry Potter. There was a lull in the whispers as everyone seemed to come to a halt. Harry clung to Hermione’s cloak, not oblivious to everyone’s intense stares. 

Hermione shot Sirius a worried look before she picked Harry up and placed him on her hip. The toddler immediately snuggled into her side, his face buried in her neck under a waterfall of curls. Sirius’ eyes narrowed and a snarl curled his lips. People ducked their heads and scurried out of their way. 

“Come on,” he growled and they kept walking. Harry winced and tightened his arms around Hermione. Sirius cast a guilty look towards his godson. He cleared his throat and said in a nicer tone, “Ollivander’s is just up the way. You’ll love it, Har,” he added with a smile. “You’ll get your first wand there when you’re eleven. Then you can do magic of your own.”

Harry’s face appeared, eyes wide. “Really?”

Hermione gently touched his head. “When you go to Hogwarts. You can’t practice magic out of school until you’re of-age.”

Sirius smirked. “There are ways around that.”

She shot him a look. “But we do not break the rules  _ or the law _ . Nor are we encouraging such behaviour.” 

Sirius raised his eyebrows, obviously hiding a smile as he looked away. Hermione narrowed her eyes. They reached Ollivander’s before she could comment further. He jumped forward and opened the door with a deep bow that would have been gentlemanly if he hadn’t of overdone it. Harry giggled.

Hermione’s search for her wand wasn’t as taxing as she thought it’d be. She also didn’t receive her original wand. Hermione briefly wondered if it had even been made yet. She twirled the dark walnut wand, ten inches, and dragon heartstring. It had stars etched into the handle. Hermione rather loved it.

A bright light shone from down one of the dark aisles lined with boxes of wands. Someone cried out and a clatter followed. Sirius, Hermione, and Ollivander all swung their heads around to the source of the noise. 

“Harry?” Hermione called. She raced down the aisle, coming to a sudden stop when she found Harry. He was standing before an opened wand box. Innocently laying on the floor was Harry Potter’s holly and phoenix feather wand. “Sweetheart?”

Harry looked up at her with sad green eyes. “’m sorry.”

Sirius crouched down beside Hermione and gave Harry a winning smile. “It’s alright, buddy. You were just playin’ about. Did you find a wand that liked you?”

Harry pointed at the wand and whispered, “ _ Magic _ .”

“Curious,” Ollivander whispered from the other side of Hermione. The witch nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. “Very curious.”

Sirius looked up at the old wizard. “Ol’?”

Ollivander kept his intense stare on the little boy. He slowly bent down and picked up the holly wand. “This,” he explained, “is a very special wand. It has the feather of an important phoenix. A phoenix that only ever gave another feather before, in the wand of the most powerful and terrifying wizard. The same wizard who gave you that scar,” he pointed a gnarled finger at Harry’s forehead.

The little boy’s eyes widened and he stumbled back a step.

“What?” Sirius jumped to his feet. He glared at Ollivander furiously, as if this fact was entirely the older wizard’s fault. “Why on earth would you keep a wand like that?”

Ollivander appeared unperturbed by Sirius’ outburst. “It was not a wand I had ever intended to let someone try. It seems that fate has other plans.” He raised his heavy brows towards Harry. “If I am not mistaken, the wand chose you, Harry Potter.” 

Sirius' face showed nothing but disgust. He pointed a finger at the wand. “I will not have that thing in my home. That is  _ not _ Harry’s wand.” He turned to the silent and startled Hermione. “Right?” When she didn’t respond, he repeated himself, “Right?”

She swallowed audibly. “Just buy the wand, Sirius,” Hermione whispered. Her eyes flickered to him, catching his look of betrayal. “We’ll discuss it later.” She bent down and picked Harry up. “Let’s go get ice cream, yes?” she cooed to Harry in a sweet voice. 

Sirius stared after his wife and godson. He could feel his wonderful mood slipping through his fingers. With a dark glare towards the shopkeeper, he bought the wands and shoved Harry’s into his coat pocket. Harry would never use this wand, not if he had any say in it.

* * *

The park was a lovely idea. Despite the bump in the road they had at Ollivander’s, their day was not spoiled. Hermione had taken Sirius’ hand and apparated them to a lovely muggle park she knew. Just like that, Sirius’ mood had skyrocketed again. 

He’d walked down a path of trees and flowers and came running back out as Padfoot. Harry had jumped to his feet and chased the dog around the park. Smiling to herself, Hermione laid out a picnic blanket under a tree. She’d transfigured a shopping bag into a basket and they’d loaded it up with snacks and sandwich fixings. 

Hermione sat on the blanket and put together a few sandwiches. A small heating charming kept it from being uncomfortable. The weather had warmed enough that most of the snow had melted. It was still chilly outside, but the scent of spring could still be found in the air. 

Harry and Padfoot were running around together on the playground. Other children had gathered to pet and play with the big, friendly dog. She couldn’t help but smile. Sirius had certainly woken up on the right side of the bed today. Her cheeks turned pink and a devious little smirk spread across her lips. Waking up with him pressed so snuggly against her back had been wonderful. She missed waking up next to him. Snuggling next to Harry every night was certainly not the same thing.

“Oh, food!” Sirius exclaimed, having transformed back behind a tree. He collapsed next to her, out of breath. “Harry, food!” he called to the little boy. Harry looked over and away again. He was playing with the other children.

“Leave him,” Hermione suggested. “He’s never around other kids.”

Sirius opened one of the water bottles and took long gulps. “He looks like he’s doing well.”

“He looks happy,” she replied with a small smile. They watched Harry laugh and run up the stairs of the playground with another child.

“Can we talk about it now?” Sirius asked quietly. 

Hermione looked down at the sandwich in her hand. “What do you want to know?”

“Is that actually Harry’s wand?”

She sighed and looked up at him. “In my time, yes.” Sirius swallowed visibly. He looked down. “As far as I know, Harry didn’t really care. It was still his wand.”

“But the phoenix feather?”

“Do you know what phoenix gave it?” Sirius’ brows furrowed at her question. “Albus Dumbledore’s.” His eyes widened. “When we were in our second year, Fawkes saved Harry’s life.” She waved her hand at the alarmed expression on her husband’s face. “It’s a long story. We can talk about it another day. But the point is, that feather in his wand isn’t just bad. I don’t like nor do I trust Dumbledore,  _ especially _ after everything that’s happened recently-”

“-Preaching to the bleeding choir-”

“-But phoenix’s are good. They’re pure. Just because Voldemort allowed himself to become corrupted doesn’t mean Harry will. Look at him,” she nodded towards Harry. “Look at that sweet little boy. He’s an angel. And when I met him when I was eleven years old he was just as sweet and wonderful. That’s not going to change.”

Sirius tried not to glare. “That’s not what I’m worried about. There’s more to this than you know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You mean the prophecy?”

His eyes widened. “How do you…?”

Hermione took his water bottle for a long drink. “We broke into the Department of Mysteries. Harry found the prophecy.”

Sirius was silent for a long moment. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting that. Hermione took a bite of her sandwich as she studied him. He had half his hair pulled up into a bun and a light dusting of stubble across his cheeks and chin. The dark circles under his eyes weren’t as prominent as they had been in the last few weeks. She thought her own dark circles weren’t as bad today either. 

Finally, Sirius looked up at his wife again. He had an amused little smirk on his face. “I thought we weren’t breaking the rules or the laws?” 

She looked away as she smiled. “You’re only breaking the rules if you get caught.”

Sirius leaned forward. “And the law?”

“And the law,” Hermione added, still smiling. 

He placed a hand behind her back and leaned towards her. His lips grazed her shoulder. Even through the material of her jacket and sweater beneath, heat suffused her skin. She shivered and he smiled against the woollen fabric. 

Harry came racing back to them with a bright smile on his face. “‘Mione! ‘Mione!” He rushed into her arms and hugged her tightly. “‘Mione play!”

Hermione chuckled. “How about some lunch?” She turned him around in her lap and passed him a sandwich. He happily munched away. “You looked like you were having fun.” Harry nodded. “Did you make some new friends?” He shrugged. 

Sirius leaned forward and caught Harry’s eye. “It’s nice making new friends.”

Harry turned so he could face both of them better. He smiled up at Hermione. “‘Mione my friend.” He snuggled into her chest.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss to his head. “That’s right, sweetie.” A sad smile stretched her lips. “Your best friend.” 

Sirius saved her before she could descend into sad thoughts. “Do you think we could stop by St. Mungo’s?”

Her head snapped towards him. “Are you okay?” she asked, instantly alarmed.

“I’m fine. I wanted to… see my dad.”

Hermione eyed him like he was some sort of alien species. “Your  _ dad _ ?”

“I owled his attending healer,” he explained slowly, watching her warily. He wasn’t sure how to take her surprised tone of voice and expression. “He’s still there. Would you… would you like to meet him?” He figured they’d never met. His father had been sick since he was in school. As much as it pained Sirius to think it, he doubted that his father would have been alive when they got married.

She looked away. “I… is that such a good idea? I mean… I am a muggle-born.”

Sirius shrugged. “Dad’s not as uptight as Walburga.” She didn’t look convinced. He smiled charmingly. “Trust me.”

“Of course,” she replied immediately. 

The way she didn’t even hesitate left him breathless. His heart stuttered in his chest. His friends had always had unwavering faith in him. At one point, his little brother had also had that faith. Not women. Not even Lily, who had been the only girl to get past his douchebag exterior. And here was this girl who he’d only ever shown the less likable side of himself and she  _ trusted _ him. He wondered what he had done in her time to make her trust him like that. 

“Could you tell me about it?” he asked without thinking.

“About what?”

“Me. You. Us.” Hermione’s eyes turned wide. “Not now, but someday.”

She nodded slowly. “Sure.” She busied herself with fussing over Harry and cleaning up their lunch. “St. Mungo’s?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

They apparated to the wizarding hospital not long later. Hermione sat with Harry in the waiting area while Sirius figured out where to go and who to talk to. She had him in her lap and they were looking through one of the children’s books in the waiting room. 

“Here, and if you touch this one… what sound does it make?”

“Meow!” Harry answered. 

“Does it?” Hermione laughed. “The cow goes ‘meow?’” Harry nodded. “How about you touch the cow, what does it say?”

He pressed his finger to the magical children's book. The cow meowed. He turned his head and smiled at Hermione. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say the two-year-old looked rather smug. Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Did you do that?”

He shrugged.

She tickled his tummy with her finger. “Did you do magic?”

Harry giggled. “No…” he denied, dragging out the word.

“I don’t believe you,” she responded with a smile. Two was fairly young for accidental magic and was it really accidental magic if he’d done it on purpose? “Have you done that before? Make things happen?” Harry shrugged. “Can you make anything else go ‘meow?’”

“Meow!” he exclaimed with a happy smile.

Hermione laughed. She tickled him again and he giggled. 

“Alright,” Sirius announced as he made his way back to them. “It took me forever, but I’ve figured out where he is. Don’t know why it was so difficult, everyone kept givin’ me the roundabout.” He smiled broadly at them. “Ready?”

Hermione nodded. “Sure. Lead the way.” She stood, bringing Harry to her hip. They followed Sirius down the way and up the magical lift to the third floor -- for patients with extended stays. “How long has he been here?” she asked as they stepped out of the lift. 

“Years,” Sirius responded with a sigh. “He’s been sick since I was a kid. But he got real bad when I was going into fifth. He was admitted into the hospital that summer.”

She turned her head to him and drew her brows together. “After you ran away?”

He shot her a surprised look. “Before. Mum --  _ Walburga _ went nuts on me after. She’d always been a bi-”

Hermione cleared her throat and glared.

“-Big meanie.” She smiled. “But she was relentless after dad was gone.” He glanced towards Harry on her hip and winced. The fact that Harry had been in his own abusive home pained Sirius more than he was willing to admit. He looked away.

Hermione wrapped her fingers around his arm. “I’m sorry.” 

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He winked.

When they reached the door to Orion Black’s room, he froze. Her hand on his arm squeezed gently. He took a calming breath before opening the door. Inside the room lay the sleeping form of Orion Arcturus Black. 

Hermione recoiled the second she got a good look. He was old, much older than she’d ever seen her Sirius but… Merlin, they looked just alike. She knew, without a doubt, this is what her husband would look like when they were old and grey. 

“Hermione?” She jumped and turned to Sirius. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s…” She shook her head. “Sorry… He looks… You two are just very similar.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. He looked at his dad. They shared the same nose, jawline, and even the same lips. He knew if his father opened his eyes, he’d find his own steely grey ones staring back. “I suppose.” A thought occurred to him and he looked up. “You mean like… in the…  _ future _ ?” he whispered the last word. 

Hermione set Harry down and licked her lips. “You weren’t as old, obviously. But… yes.” She smirked at him. “You age well.”

Sirius’ shoulders drew back and he grinned smugly. Hermione rolled her eyes at his response. She sat down and Harry climbed into her lap. Sirius pulled another chair forward and joined them. He was at a loss for what to do now.

Hermione brought out a snack of soft crackers from her purse and handed it to Harry. She hugged the toddler close and turned to her husband. “They say that people can hear you speak, even when you’re asleep.”

Sirius made a face. “Bit odd to have a conversation with someone and then they wake up halfway through.”

“Bit creepy to just watch a man sleep.”

Sirius nodded his head once in agreement. He glanced at Hermione before awkwardly shuffling to the edge of his chair. He cleared his throat. “Uhm… hi, dad. Been a long time. I’ve been… away.” He looked down at his hands. He cleared his throat again and looked up. “Like you to meet a couple of people. This is Harry, Jamie’s kid. They look just alike, it’s rather creepy.

“And this little witch here is Hermione.” They shared a smile and then Sirius said, “She’s my child bride.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Sirius!” she hissed.

He laughed. “It’s a joke.”

“You really need to drop it. What will he think?”

“That I picked a pretty one.” He winked. 

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Harry. They stayed for a little while longer before Harry grew sleepy. “I have to get him home for his nap.” Sirius nodded and moved to stand. “No, stay. I’ll use the floo at the visitors' entrance.”

“Are you sure?”

She smiled sweetly. “Enjoy your time with your father. Just, please be home before dinner. I need to go get groceries still.”

Sirius nodded. “Will do. Thanks… thanks for today. I had fun.”

Hermione stared into his grey eyes. Heat spread through her chest like a sip of warm tea. “So did I. Maybe we can do something tomorrow?”

His eyes danced over the freckles on her face and the perfect curve of her lips. “I’d like that.”

After a moment of consideration, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “See you at home.”

Sirius watched her leave the room with a sleepy toddler cuddled close to her chest. He couldn’t help but smile widely. He turned back to his dad and laughed. “Did you see that? She kissed me. Ha! Still got it.” He slouched back and raised his feet to rest on the end of his father’s bed. 

Two hours later and Orion still had not awoken. Sirius was beginning to get worried. His father had been diagnosed with a rare magical malady when Sirius was fourteen. It was called Magica Mori. From what Sirius knew of the illness, his father shouldn’t be asleep for so long. He picked up the clipboard at the end of his father’s bed. He flicked through the information there.

Orion wasn’t in a coma. He did wake up from time to time, but it was infrequent and becoming even more so as time wore on. He flagged down a nurse, but just as before, no one wanted to talk to him. Sirius glared at the back of the fourth healer to have walked away without answers. He’d had to bully Orion’s attending healer into even giving him an update on his father’s condition. Something was wrong.

* * *

Hermione sat on the couch with her arms crossed. She glanced at the clock again and huffed. It was nearly ten o’clock at night. Sirius hadn’t made it home in time for her to get groceries and Hermione had to cobble together a dinner from what they had in the flat. Harry had been given a bath and put down to sleep after no less than three bedtime stories. Sirius hadn’t come home at all.

The front door opened. Sirius came in with his hands full of bags from what looked like Flourish and Blotts. Hermione was on her feet in an instant. “Where have you been?” she tried not to sound as irritated she felt.

“Library. Then I went to the store.” He set the bags on the table and began pulling out stack after stack of books. 

“And you couldn’t have sent an owl?”

“To who?” He waved his wand to vanish the shopping bags. Hermione’s face flushed red with rage. She could feel her curls tightening as her anger bubbled and boiled beneath her skin. “Look at this,” Sirius continued, completely missing his wife’s anger. He flipped open one of the books he’d bought. “Magica Mori doesn’t result in excessive fatigue. It’s something else. Something else is causing that.”

Hermione’s brows drew together. Despite her rage, she was intrigued. “It could be his medicine,” she reasoned, her heart not exactly in it.

“No. I already checked that.” He pulled a chair out and sat down at the kitchen table. And just like that, it was like Hermione didn’t exist again.

The young witch looked heavenward with a sigh. “Harry’s in bed.” No response. “I’m turning in too.”

“Night.”

Hermione nodded her head. “Guess we won’t be going to the park tomorrow,” she whispered. Sirius didn’t even hear her. Rolling her eyes and biting back tears, Hermione went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> xx


	9. Chapter Nine

##  _ _

##  _ \- March 4, 1983 - _

Sirius spent three days camped out at the kitchen table doing research. He only ever packed it away for mealtimes and minutes later he’d be back at it. Hermione tried not to be upset. She knew he was researching what was going on with his father. Everyone coped with things differently and if this helped him, then she wasn’t going to argue. 

Her understanding of the situation didn’t stop her from feeling hurt and abandoned. She reasoned that she should probably stop projecting Sirius’ older self on this version of him. It was only going to lead her to heartbreak. 

Harry didn’t really understand. She tried to keep him occupied, but he kept asking when they could play with Padfoot again. It broke her heart to see his sad little face every time she said ‘maybe another day.’ If Sirius made that boy sad one more time, she was going to hex him.

“Hermione. Hermione, wake up.” 

The witch groaned and rolled onto her back. She glared at the familiar figure standing over her. “Sirius?” 

“Come on, I need your help.” Before she could protest, he had pulled on her arm and dragged her halfway out of bed. 

“Now?” She glanced over her shoulder and noted that Harry was still fast asleep. Thank Merlin for small mercies. Sirius manhandled her out of bed and into the living room.

He sat her down on the couch beside him. Hermione blinked in the brightness of the room. “I’ve reached a wall, I need your help.” His books had been moved to the living room and were spread across the coffee table.

She sighed. Hearing the tone in his voice, she knew she wasn’t getting back to sleep until she answered his questions. “How can I help?”

He flashed her a quick smile. “Okay, think back to your time. Was there ever a time when I was reading these sorts of books? Researching my father’s illness? Did I mention anything about it?”

Hermione sent him a sad look. “Sirius… you’ve never mentioned your father. I didn’t even know he was still alive in this time. I’m sorry.” 

Sirius looked a little sad to hear that, but he also wasn’t surprised. “Books? Was I - he - researching?”

She shrugged. “He spent some time in the library, I guess.” Sirius had spent a great deal of his time either getting drunk or trying to stay sober. He hadn’t really pulled himself together until his near-death in the Department of Mysteries.

“And you?”

Hermione looked up at Sirius. She’d never felt so alone. “Yes,” she whispered, scared that if she spoke any louder that she would cry, “I’ve been known to spend some time in the library.”

He leaned forward excitedly. “Okay, and these books? Did you see them at all?”

Hermione turned back to the piles of books across the coffee table. She sighed. Sirius was expecting an answer. She focused on each of the titles as she cast her mind back. Hermione was honestly surprised to say, “The titles sound familiar.” Sirius nearly vibrated with excitement.

Hermione closed her eyes as she tried to remember. It was just after her fourth year. Hermione had only just arrived at Grimmauld Place the day before. It had taken everything in her not to storm the ancient library first thing, but she had managed to resist. When she’d finally entered on her second day there, she’d found Sirius sitting at a desk piled with books. He’d been asleep and haggard-looking despite the fact he was no longer living on the run.

“Seventh year,” Hermione whispered as her mind finally caught the difference between her current Sirius’ pile of books and the one from the future. She opened her eyes. “Seventh year Potions.”

“What about it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. But that book was on my… on future Sirius’ desk. That’s all I know.” Sirius jumped to his feet. He went over to his bookcase and plucked the textbook from the shelf. A second later, he was settled on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. He opened up the text and immediately began reading. 

Hermione watched him for a long moment before sighing softly. She debated going back to bed when the door opened. Harry appeared, rubbing his eyes and a pout on his lips. Hermione held her hand out to him. He stumbled towards her before crawling into her lap. The two of them curled up together on the couch while Sirius did his research. 

It would be a long night.

* * *

“Harry, darling, please clean up your crayons.”

“No!” he shouted. He threw a handful of crayons across the kitchen.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Harry,” she admonished. “That’s not how we treat our things.”

“No!” he screamed again. He picked up more crayons and threw them again. Hermione was nonplussed. It was the first time Harry had done anything that could be construed as a tantrum. He was normally far too skittish to ever push her. 

She glanced towards the living room, but Sirius had disappeared sometime before sunrise. Hermione raised her wand and vanished all the crayons. “That’s enough.” Harry’s face turned red. “I think it’s time for a nap.”

“No! No, no, no, no!” 

The pots and pans rattled with the toddler’s barely restrained magic.

Hermione glanced towards the kitchen warily. Neither of them had gotten much sleep last night. Even after they’d moved back to the bedroom, Harry had tossed and turned until the sun rose. It wasn’t even lunch yet and she knew he was tired. Naptime was definitely coming early today. 

She picked the crying, angry toddler up. He continued to scream and cry as she carried him into the bedroom. A crash sounded in the kitchen and Hermione winced.

There was a rocking chair in one corner of the room that she’d transfigured a few weeks ago when he’d had a nightmare. Hermione went to the chair and cuddled Harry close. She shushed loudly in his ear as she slowly rubbed circles on his back. 

It took a long while, but eventually, Harry settled down. She wasn’t sure if what she’d done had helped at all or if the poor baby had simply cried himself to sleep. Either way, she tucked him into bed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

She quietly closed the door behind herself before setting the flat to rights. Hermione waved her new wand around. Sirius’ books flew to the bookcases. The dishes went to washing. She fixed the fallen pans back into their proper place. With magic, Hermione had the flat cleaned in minutes. 

She took a moment to herself, simply standing there. The flat was quiet. Harry was asleep. Sirius was… somewhere. Hermione allowed herself a minute of self-pity. It was lonely in this new time. She missed her friends and family more and more every day. 

With a sigh, she turned to the bookcase and picked out one that never failed to lift her spirits.  _ Hogwarts: A History _ was always the ticket when she was feeling sad. She’d picked up a copy on her first and only trip to Diagon Alley before she’d gone to get Harry. 

Curled into the corner of the couch with a cup of tea, Hermione immersed herself in the story of her favourite school.

A knock came at the door.

Hermione looked up. She wasn’t sure how much later it was, but since Harry hadn’t woken from his nap yet, she figured not that long. She glanced at the clock before heading to the door. Her eyes widened when she saw who was on the other side. 

“Professor Dumbledore?”

The old wizard smiled tightly. “Mrs. Black. Might I come in?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “No. What do you want?”

Dumbledore sighed as if disappointed in her actions. “This is perhaps a conversation better had inside,” he suggested.

Hermione crossed her arms and cocked her hip to the side. She refused to move.

The headmaster’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m here for Harry.”

“Excuse me?”

“He must be taken back to the Dursley’s home. These are matters above your head and-”

“-You mean the blood wards?” Dumbledore’s eyes widened. Hermione smirked. “Oh, professor. If you’d taken even a moment to question exactly who I was when you had me in your office all those months ago, I’m positive you would’ve had me tossed in Azkaban.” 

His clear blue eyes hardened. 

“I know exactly what you’re trying to do,” she continued, “but it’s not happening. Sirius has custody of Harry, not you. You’re just the headmaster of a school he won’t be attending for years to come.”

“I am still Chief Warlock,” he claimed as he drew his shoulders back.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. “That doesn’t make you above kidnapping. But go ahead and take the problem to the Wizengamot, if you like. I’m sure all those stuffy old men will be very eager to go head to head with Sirius Black after the papers have only just stopped dragging them through the mud for  _ convicting an innocent man _ .”

“And without trial,” another voice put in.

Both Dumbledore and Hermione turned to see Sirius glaring at his old headmaster. His eyes were cold and he was nearly vibrating with rage as he said, “I’ve not charged you for what you did that day, nor have I asked for a proper investigation into it. But I think we both know what we’d find if I did.” Sirius took a threatening step forward. “If you want to keep yourself as headmaster and Chief Warlock, then keep yourself away from my godson. And get your arse off my bloody doorstep.”

Dumbledore slowly looked back and forth between the two. He nodded once. He turned to leave but paused. Some things about Albus Dumbledore never changed and having the last word was certainly one of those things. “The situation is more complicated than either of you can even begin to understand. I hope you’ll come to your senses before it’s too late.” Before either of them could respond, the headmaster had left.

Sirius growled and followed Hermione into the flat. “What a bloody prick.”

“Why haven’t you filed against him?” she immediately questioned. They needed Dumbledore off their back. Taking his position in the Wizengamot away would lessen his ability to take Harry away from them.

“Blackmail is more powerful,” he explained flippantly. He went into the kitchen and put on the kettle. “Dumbledore stopped Grindelwald, people won’t just forget that. It’s better to have a powerful man in my pocket than an angry one at my back.”

Hermione stared at Sirius like she’d never seen him before. “That’s - that’s very Slytherin of you.”

He nodded once, grudgingly admitting the fact to be true. “Well, I didn’t get placed in Gryffindor because I  _ didn’t _ have Slytherin qualities.” Hermione wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. He smiled suddenly. “I figured it out. It’s been taken care of.”

“What has?”

“My father. He’s going to be okay!”

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “You cured his disease?”

“He was never sick in the first place!” Sirius exclaimed excitedly.

“I - what?”

“My bitch of a mother was poisoning him,” he explained and Hermione was too shocked to complain about his swearing. “Paid off the healers, the nurses. Everyone. I found it in the Potions textbook. It’s this potion for allergy attacks, but if you use it when you aren’t having one, it’s got these nasty side effects. Side effects that appear to be Magica Mori. Your magic becomes unstable, then slowly it begins to dissipate if there’s prolonged use. Then the usual follows that always does when someone starts to lose their magic. Ageing faster, weakness, loss of memory. The only difference is-”

“-Lethargicness,” Hermione finished for him. That was brilliant -- horrible and disgusting, but brilliant. 

“Exactly.”

“Everyone knew?” she questioned, aghast.

“Not everyone, but most on his floor.” He took the kettle off as it began to whistle and poured them a cup of tea each. “They’d been keepin’ it quiet for years. I took it to Kings and he and Moody sussed it all out. Dad’s got a new healer who I personally vetted and it’s still early, but they think he’s going to make a full recovery.”

“Sirius, that’s wonderful!”

“Right?” He couldn’t stop smiling. “Merlin, it’s going to be fantastic. I thought I’d lost him ages ago.”

“Congratulations,” she said, genuine in her affections. “I’m glad everything’s been sorted.” 

“Well, not everything.” Hermione felt the little bubble of happiness in her chest pop. “I want to see him when he wakes up. I’ve got to stay on top of his progress and I’m damn well keeping an eye on all the staff. And there’s my mother to worry about. They’ve arrested her, but I’m not sure what I’m going to do when it all comes to trial.” His eyes widened and he shook his head. “Bloody hell, best not to think about it.” He took a sip of his tea and looked around the flat. “Is Harry up? I’ve a present for him. I…” Hermione’s brows were furrowed and her arms were crossed over her chest. “What’s wrong?

“Sirius…” she sighed with a shake of her head. “You can’t just do this.”

“Do what?” he asked and it took everything in him not to immediately jump to the defensive.

“Be here and then not here a second later. You can’t just bounce in and out whenever you like. I understand this was important and I get it and I’m so happy everything’s sorting itself out now, but… I need to know if I… He’s your godson. He’s in your custody, not mine. I won’t pretend to know you, Sirius. You’re not… you’re not the same man I married.” She looked away when she said this. Sirius felt like she might as well have punched him in the gut. “And you don’t know me at all. But I need to know now if I’m… if I’m going to be doing this on my own.” She met his gaze once more as she said those final words. Sirius’ heart dropped.

He set his tea back on the counter. “No. Hermione,  _ no _ .” He wrapped his fingers around her upper arms, but whatever pleasant feelings he was expecting from their touch wasn’t there. She was really, truly furious with him. Sirius took a deep breath and licked his lips.“I’m here. This just… you understand I needed to get this done. It was important. It was life or death.”

She nodded and shrugged. “You can’t just shove us in a corner every time something important pops up. Let me know. Tell me you need to focus on something and we can work it out. But you can’t just  _ disappear _ .” She raised her eyebrows. “James and Lily made you his godfather, Sirius. They wanted you to raise him. Not some random seventeen-year-old girl they don’t know. I’m sure they’d be upset with this.”

Sirius grinned despite himself. “Doubt it, Lily would love you.” It was true too. Lily would have been over the moon to hear that someone was there to keep him in check. James was probably giggling like a little schoolboy over his situation -- his wife from the future. 

“Sirius…” she sighed.

He let out a long breath. “I’m sorry,” he forced himself to say, not because he didn’t mean it, but because it wasn’t something he often said. “I get it. I’ve been… absent. I’ll work on it. Feel free to tell me to get my head out of my arse, if you need to.” His lips quirked up into a joking grin.

His words had the opposite effect. Hermione’s face immediately closed off. “I’m already taking care of one child.” Sirius winced. “You’re a grown man, you need to do that yourself.” 

“I’m really rubbish at it though.”

She pushed him away. “Well, I can’t do it all myself!” 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a tight hug. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into the curls at the top of her head.

Hermione stood there, her arms limp at her sides while he hugged her close to his chest. She felt like crying. She was married to a man she didn’t even really know. She was raising a child without any clue if she was doing it right. Everything had been turned upside down. 

The warmth and tingles of their magical bond flared beneath her skin. Her magical core hummed and sang inside her chest, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. She wrapped her arms around Sirius’ waist and took a deep breath. She felt his own magic reach out and spark against her own. 

“I’ll be better,” Sirius whispered. “I promise. Trust me.”

Hermione didn’t respond. Sirius’ arms tightened around her.

“‘Mione?” Hermione pulled away and quickly wiped at her cheeks. Once she was sure she was tear-free, she turned to Harry with a bright smile. “Cookie?”

“Hungry, are you?” she asked with a smile. He nodded. “Feeling better after you nap?” He nodded again. 

“Is he sick?” Sirius quietly asked with worry.

Hermione shook her head and mouthed the word, “Tantrum.” Sirius’ eyes widened. He couldn’t even imagine what  _ that _ would be like given Harry couldn’t handle screaming or crying from another person. “How about I make us some lunch, yes?”

“Okay.” Sirius took a step towards Harry and crouched down so that they were eye level. “Hey, buddy. I got you something.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“Yeah…” He glanced towards Hermione who was watching them curiously. “You know how I can turn into Padfoot?” Harry nodded. “Well, your daddy used to be able to turn into an animal too. Do you remember?” He shook his head. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. You didn’t get to see it as often. Prongs wasn’t housetrained like me.” Sirius winked.

Hermione snorted and muttered, “You’re housetrained?”

He raised his eyebrows at her. She quickly busied herself with making lunch. Sirius shook his head and turned back to Harry. He pulled something from his pocket and tapped it with his wand. The object magically grew. Harry gasped. It was a stuffed toy.

“See,” Sirius explained, “this is a stag.” He paused and cocked his head to the side. “Or about as close as I could find. Your daddy could turn into an animal just like this. We called him ‘Prongs.’”

“Prongs?” Harry reached out and took the offered plushie. He played with one of its antlers.

“And you know what Prongs does?” Harry shook his head. “He fights the bad dreams.” Sirius smiled softly at his godson. “He’ll always keep you safe.” Harry smiled and hugged the toy to his chest. “Do you like it?”

Harry nodded. 

Hermione smiled at the two of them. “What do we say, Harry?”

He pressed his face into the neck of the toy. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“You’re very welcome,” Sirius responded. He nodded to the couch. “Why don’t you go watch some  _ Doctor Who _ while Hermione and I make lunch?” Harry toddled off to the couch and the tele flicked on a moment later.

“That was really sweet of you.” Sirius smiled awkwardly. “Doesn’t make up for everything.”

He sighed. “Let me help with lunch.”

Hermione snorted. “You can’t cook.” She put a pot of hot water up to boil. “You don’t even know what raw chicken looks like.”

His arms crossed over his chest. “And how would you know that?” 

She smirked at him over her shoulder. “On our… I made dinner for us after we got married.” She laughed and turned back to the stove. “You tried to throw out the raw chicken breast. It was the first and last time I ever tried to get you to cook.”

Sirius gave her a funny look that she didn’t see with her back turned to him. “You made dinner on our wedding day?”

She paused, her hand on a jar of pasta sauce. “We didn’t exactly have a big to do. We just signed the papers and then went to the ministry.”

“Oh…” He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms.

She set the jar on the counter and turned to him with a kind smile. “Sirius, go join Harry.”

“I want to help,” he replied in a pleading tone of voice.

They shared a long look. She sighed. “Not with the cooking. Literally anything but the cooking.” He chuckled under his breath. She crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the counter. “It’s fine, Sirius. We… we’ll figure it out.” 

“But we’re good?” he needed to clarify. 

She shrugged. “Just don’t be a git.”

His eyes widened comically. “Tall order there, sweetheart.” His gruff voice had never sounded so similar to his older self as he said the term of endearment. Hermione couldn’t help but smile. They were still a right mess, but she thought they might just be able to figure it out eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> xx


	10. Chapter Ten

##  _ _

##  _ \- March 17, 1983 - _

The cupboard slammed shut. 

Hermione jumped. She spun around and narrowed her eyes at Sirius. “Can you please watch your volume? I just put Harry down for a nap.” He’d been a grouch all morning. His moods would swing between furious and ecstatic at a moment's notice. In the days following their heart to heart, Sirius had waffled between trying his hardest to help out and distant.

“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped. “It’s a big fuckin’ production to get him down and my presence doesn’t help.” 

Hermione closed her eyes. “Sirius…” she sighed. She tried to be understanding. The Sirius in her time had suffered from similar mood swings when he’d first been confined to Grimmauld Place. 

“I can’t do anything,” he continued. The statement seemed to echo between them. He couldn’t cook, he couldn’t help with Harry who only trusted her, and he couldn’t keep the constant cold from seeping in and freezing him from the inside out. The cold had set in for him late the night before last. The shaking had started yesterday afternoon. At this point, Sirius couldn’t even think beyond the darkness filling his mind. 

Hermione bit her lip. “What can I do? Please tell me.” He was trying. She knew he was. But whatever lasting effects there were from the dementors, Hermione didn’t know the cure. 

Sirius shook his head. His brows drew together and his mouth pinched in an expression Hermione knew meant he was getting angry. At a loss for anything else to do, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Sirius’ entire body tensed. 

She pressed her face into his chest and squeezed her arms tight. She pushed as much warmth and love through their bond as she could. Sirius drew in a ragged breath. The heat rushed through his frozen veins like a burning inferno. 

His fingers shook for a completely different reason when he curled them around her shoulders. He pushed her back. Sirius breathed heavily into the ensuing silence. The coldness had receded the way it always did when she touched him. He loved it just as much as he resented it. He didn’t want to be dependent on her touch. Sirius didn’t want to be dependent on anyone.

“I’m going for a walk.” He turned away and grabbed his leather jacket. 

“Did it help?” He made his way to the door. “Sirius, wait,” she called as she grabbed his hand. He stopped, the door already open and his body poised to escape. “Will you be back for dinner?”

Sirius stared at the floor. The warmth was rushing through his body again and he revelled in it.

“Please come back,” she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes. “I know this is hard… I wish I could do more.” 

He didn’t move. His body still faced the door, her hand in his holding him there.“Did he do it? Did he get past this?”

“Yes,” Hermione breathed.

Sirius let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The relief he felt at that single confirmation was immense. “How?” he asked weakly.

She rubbed her thumb along the back of his hand. “You know that muggle phrase, ‘fake it until you make it?’” She shrugged. “He faked it.”

Sirius looked over his shoulder at her, his face disbelieving. “And that worked?”

“One day, he realized he wasn’t pretending anymore,” she explained softly.

“How far away is ‘one day?’”

She hugged his arm close. “Closer than you think.” They stood together in silence. Sirius soaked up every bit of warmth and magic he could while it lasted. Eventually, Hermione stepped back. “Dinner?”

He nodded. “I’ll be here.” He paused for a long moment before stepping forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Thanks.” He left before her touch dragged him back in. It was only a temporary fix. He needed to actually repair the problem. Applying a bandage to a knife wound wasn’t about to stem the blood flow. 

Sirius headed down the stairs to the main floor. He passed through the building’s entrance and ran straight into another person. His nose bumped against the taller man’s collarbone. Sirius jumped back and his eyes widened.

“Moony!”

Remus smiled, tears in his eyes. “ _ Padfoot _ ,” he breathed. They stood frozen for a moment. Remus pulled his best friend into his arms. He squeezed Sirius so tightly, the animagus wheezed for air. He didn’t complain. Sirius closed his eyes and revelled in the comfort that Remus’ wolf brought to the canine in his chest. When the two finally separated, Remus suggested, “Drinks?”

“Oh, hells yes.”

They turned together and made their way to the Leaky. It was packed inside and without even a word, they passed through to Muggle London. There was a pub just down the street that the Marauders had favoured years ago.

“Merlin,” Sirius whispered when he stepped into the classic style English pub. “This takes me back.” Remus clapped a hand to his back and led him to a booth. They each slid in on either side. Sirius’ eyes trailed over his haggard-looking friend. There were heavy lines on his face and dark circles under his eyes. The moon had just passed, but regardless, Moony had never looked so old. “You look like shit, mate.”

“You’re not exactly anything to get excited about yourself, Pads,” his friend responded dryly. He eyed Sirius’ own dark circles and still underweight form with a raised eyebrow.

Sirius smirked. “Please, we both know you want all this.” He gestured down his body with a smirk.

“You’ve found me out,” Remus deadpanned,. “I’ve been dreaming about your cock for years.”

“I can come back?” a blushing, embarrassed waitress squeaked out. Sirius burst into laughter while Remus turned red.

The werewolf cleared his throat. “Two pints, please.” The waitress fled. Remus leaned forward. “Shut up,” he growled. Despite his tone, his lips twitched with a barely repressed smile.

Sirius wiped away an amused tear. “ _ Fuck _ . I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”

Remus’ half-smile died away. “I’m sorry. I thought… I didn’t believe it. I told Dumbledore, but he -”

“- He knew.”

Remus’ eyes widened. His mind stuttered to a halt. “He what?”

Sirius turned to survey the bar. The easygoing banter between them was forgotten in light of such serious topics. “He cast the spell for us. He knew it was…” Sirius looked back to his best friend. “I know you love Dumbledore like family, but… I think he wanted me out of the picture. No -- I  _ know _ he did.” He sighed and ran a hand through his curly black hair. “He tried to take Harry from us the other day.”

Remus, already leaning forward, pushed even further over the table in his shock. “He did  _ what _ ?”

“He came when I was out. Tried to knick Harry from Hermione.” Sirius snorted and shook his head. “It’s actually kind of funny. You’d have better luck stealing gold from a niffler.” Sirius ran a hand over his tired face. Remus couldn’t tell if the other man was amused or exhausted, probably both.

The waitress appeared again with two pints. “Cheers.”

Sirius’ hand froze an inch away from the drink. Remus watched him over the rim of his glass. The animagus’ brows drew together. He raised his hand as the waitress passed. “Can I get a water? Cheers.” Without another word, he slid the glass across the table to his mate.

Remus raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. 

“The wife would kill me,” Sirius joked weakly.

The werewolf raised his other eyebrow to join the first. “I know I was absent during the end of the war,” he started, skirting around all the unpleasant thoughts of him having joined Greyback’s pack under Dumbledore’s orders and Sirius thinking he was a spy for the better part of a year, “but you’re not  _ actually _ married, are you?”

Sirius opened his mouth, and when he said Hermione's famous line, “It’s complicated,” he visibly winced. He smiled tensely at the waitress when she dropped off his water. 

Sirius discreetly waved his wand and cast a privacy ward. They both leaned forward, settling in for a deep discussion.

“She’s from the future,” Sirius said, giving just the tip of the iceberg. He explained everything Hermione had told him about You-Know-Who and how she knew about the prophecy. He left nothing out, including the fact that she was Harry’s classmate and their marriage was, in a way, arranged. He’d also gone into detail about her arrival to the past and what Kingsley had told him about her state when she’d gotten there.

Remus was done the second pint by the time Sirius had finished his tale. “ _ Attacked _ ?”

“She has nightmares about it. Harry told me.” It had been the strangest interaction of Sirius’ life. The little toddler had pulled him down to whisper in his ear about Hermione’s dreams while she was busy in the kitchen. He looked so much older than he was at that moment. His eyes had practically screamed at Sirius to do something about it.

“Harry told you?” Remus confirmed, confused.

“She and Harry have the bed. I’m on the couch.”

“How gentlemanly of you,” Remus responded, obviously amused.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I don’t think Harry can sleep on his own. He’s got nightmares of his own.” He looked down at the table. “We all do. Hermione would never kick him out of bed. I wouldn’t ever ask her to either. Fuck. The shit Tuney did to Harry… I don’t even know, but the kid is a wreck.”

“What do you mean?”

“They… crying. Anger. If either of us so much as looks upset, he thinks… I don’t know what he thinks. That’s we’ll hurt him?” Remus’ eyes widened. He reeled back. Sirius shook his head, heartbroken at the very thought. “He’s nothing like the baby he was before. He’s always so skittish and scared now.” Sirius' eyes watered. “I feel like I’m failing James and Lily.”

Remus shook his head. “You weren’t there Sirius. They wouldn’t blame you for trying to avenge them.” Sirius shot him a look. “Okay,” Remus amended, “Lily would. But James would have done the exact same in your position. You’re here now.”

Sirius snorted in a self-deprecating manner. “Fat lot of good that is. Beyond the fact that I’m a fucking wreck, Harry doesn’t know me. He doesn’t trust me. Hermione does everything. I can’t even help out with the bloody cooking.”

Remus looked down at the glass in his hands. They were silent for a full minute before he asked, “How bad was it? For Harry?”

When Sirius looked up at the other wizard, his eyes were tortured. “They kept him in a cupboard.”

Remus’ eyes slammed shut. His fingers curled into tight fists. Sirius eyed his friend warily, more than aware of the destruction Moony could cause when his anger got away from him. Finally, he released a breath he’d been holding. His golden eyes opened and fixed on Sirius. “She got him out,” he stated gruffly.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Remus waved his hand for another drink, feeling like he needed something much stronger. “She got you out too.”

Sirius looked down at the table. “Yeah.”

“So, what the hell’s wrong?”

Sirius sighed. He couldn’t hide anything from his best friends. “I don’t even know how to explain it. I just - I’m always so cold. And the colder I am the worse…  _ everything _ is.” He dragged his finger along the condensation on the outside of his glass. “I’m driving Hermione nuts. I can’t blame her. It’s like -- it’s like fifth year.”

Remus’ eyes widened. Sirius had been an emotional wreck after leaving home. His father was in the hospital, his mother had crucioed him within an inch of his life, and Voldemort’s power had grown so far that he could no longer talk to his brother for fear of endangering the younger Black. It had been the most emotionally trying time of his life. He hadn’t thought things could ever be worse. How wrong he was. 

“It’s not the same,” Remus protested. “You’re in a good home. You’ve got family who cares about you. I’m sorry I wasn’t at the trial, or here at all. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out.”

“It’s fine. I don’t blame you.”

“I blame myself.”

“Fuckin’ colour me surprised.”

A shocked laughed broke free from the werewolf. Sirius grinned. When the werewolf had collected himself again, he wondered, “Alcohol is considered a depressant. Think that’s why the wife banned it?”

Sirius raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in consideration. “Dunno. Didn’t ask.”

Remus nodded once, not all that surprised. “You two talk about anything?”

“If I’m in a good mood.”

“So rarely,” Remus quipped, thinking back to fifth year. Sirius had hardly ever been in a joking mood. Pranks that year had been decidedly malicious. It’d all come to a head at the end of the year when he’d almost killed Snape by sending him to the Whomping Willow to be attacked by Moony.

Sirius leaned back in his seat. He shrugged. “It hasn’t been easy.” The waitress dropped off another pint for the werewolf. “I don’t know how to stop the effects of Azkaban. Hermione helps. Our bond,” he explained, “it fights off the cold, but it’s not solving the root problem. It just keeps coming back.”

“This coldness,” Remus wondered, “is it physical or emotional?”

“Bit o’ both,” Sirius replied with a shrug.

“Have you tried occlumency?”

Sirius blinked in shock. He opened his mouth to tell his friend that his occlumency shields were  _ always _ in place when he did a mental check. 

Remus nodded, knowing exactly what the other wizard had just realized. “It’s not a commonly known side effect, but exposure to dementors can dispel occlumency shields. If they didn’t, you wouldn’t have been affected.”

Sirius’ heart was racing inside his chest. He closed his eyes and mentally searched for the mental protection his father had insisted both his sons learn from an early age. Sirius had been particularly gifted at occlumency and able to keep up the strongest of shields at all times. There had been a particularly terrifying moment in the war when Voldemort himself had tried to get through Sirius’ defences -- and failed.

When Sirius finally found his shields, he was horrified. They were in tatters. Occlumency defences needed to be maintained. The techniques needed to be frequently practiced. Like any muscle or talent, lack of use would weaken one’s abilities. 

Sirius quickly decided he didn’t have time to work through the broken pieces of his mental defences. He quickly threw up a thin layer to protect his mind for the time being. When he opened his eyes, Remus was watching him as he drank his pint.

Sirius’ mouth curled into a massive grin. “Moony, if I wasn’t married already, I’d marry you right now.”

“Did it help?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

Sirius barked a laugh and shook his head. “Not at all. There’s nothing there to work with. I’ll have to start from scratch to build new defences but… It might just work.” Occlumency helped one control their emotions and created a calm mental state for the user. It was often taught to witches and wizards with severe depression or anxiety. Sirius couldn’t stop smiling. He knew it’d work. It’d take time, but it would  _ work _ .

Sirius tapped the table. “Alright, hurry up then. Wife’s cooking, let’s head home.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “A home-cooked meal? The fuck are we still doing here?” He chugged the rest of his beer and slammed the glass back onto the table. The alcohol would do nothing to his system. Werewolves took a bit more than a few pints to get pissed. He knew because it had been James and Sirius’ mission to get him drunk in school.

They rose together and Sirius threw some muggle cash onto the table. He glared at Remus when he tried to protest. They made their way back through the Leaky and into the Alley again.

“Hermione won’t mind if I join you, will she?”

Sirius snorted. “Doubtful. She’s…” He shook his head. “She’s like a ray of sunshine. I mean, she could easily nag you to death and she’s got no love of Quidditch, nor any appreciation for swearing, but… she’s just…  _ good _ . She reminds me a bit of Alice.”

Remus nodded with a smile. “So, way too good for you.”

“Pretty much.” He glanced at the taller man. “Where’ve you been hiding anyway? You really do look like shit.” His clothes were the shabbiest that Sirius had ever seen them and he was far too underweight. Werewolves had to keep a healthy diet. If he wasn’t eating enough calories every day, the transformations would be excruciating. 

Remus glared without heat. He knew he looked like a mess. “So you’ve said. I was out in Ireland for a bit. After everything… I needed time.”

“It feels like it just happened,” Sirius agreed quietly as he led him through the door to his building and up the stairs.

“Yeah…”

Sirius let them into the flat just in time to see a little boy in nothing but his pants race out of the bedroom. Harry laughed loudly as he dashed towards the couch. He clearly hadn’t noticed the two wizards standing in the doorway, beyond amused.

“Harry!” Hermione laughed as she chased after him. She froze when she spotted Remus and Sirius standing there. “Professor!” Their eyebrows shot up. “I mean… Remus. Hello.” She was blushing madly as the two men exchanged an amused look. She flicked her wand at Harry and magically clothed him in a second.

Harry gasped. “Hey!” he protested.

“You can run around starkers later,” she promised before nodding to the door. “We have a guest.” Harry pouted. She fought valiantly against his big green eyes, which the little boy knew could weaken her to any cause. “Dinner’s ready, you’re just in time.” Hermione flicked her wand and another place setting appeared at the table. She smiled at the two older wizards. “Come on.” 

Remus exchanged an amused smile with Sirius before placing his cloak on a hook along with Sirius’ leather jacket. She helped Harry into his booster seat. The little boy eyed the tall wizard across from him wearily. His fingers clung to the sleeve of Hermione’s dress. 

“Harry, this is your Uncle Remus.” She smiled at Remus before turning her attention back to Harry. “Say, ‘hello,’” Harry mumbled something incoherent.

Hermione took it as a victory. She patted Harry’s head and he released her sleeve. “Sirius, can you help me bring everything over?” She could do it with magic, but Sirius tended to respond positively when she asked for his help. She’d taken to leaving little things for him to do around the flat.

“Sure thing.” He jumped to his feet and helped carry over the food. Hermione pulled something from the freezer to defrost in the sink. When everything was set up, Hermione served a plate of food to Remus piled high with extra food. 

The werewolf’s eyes boggled. “This is too much,” he protested, eyeing the pile of steak, potatoes, and vegetables with longing.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “When you come to my home for dinner, you are required to eat all your calories. Problem?” 

Remus looked between Hermione’s stern expression and Sirius’ amused one. His cheeks turned pink at the casual reference to his increased need for food due to his condition. She knew what he was. He swallowed. “As long as it’s not a problem for you?”

Sirius rolled his eyes as he turned to cut up Harry’s steak for him. Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Just don’t eat my hidden chocolate bars and we’ll be fine.”

Sirius’ head shot up. “What hidden chocolate?”

Hermione smiled sweetly and walked around the table to her seat. Sirius eyed her with faux distrust. He finished up helping Harry and went around to his own seat across from her. “What else have you been hiding in this flat?”

She raised an eyebrow challengingly as a slow smirk spread across her face. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

Remus snorted out a laugh. “You’re right. She’s just like Alice.”

“Alice Longbottom?” Hermione asked, her eyes darting between them.

Remus nodded sadly. “She was a few years older than us, but Sirius was quite close with the Longbottoms when he was an auror.” He turned to his friend who was picking at his food.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Oh, right. I forgot you were an auror. I…” Her cheeks turned pink and she looked at Remus.

The werewolf shrugged. “He told me. I hope that’s not a problem either?”

She quickly shook her head. “Of course not. I would have said something myself if the Department hadn’t essentially gagged me.” She turned her attention back to her husband. “I remind you of Alice?”

Sirius looked up and smiled grimly. “Didn’t I mention that?” Hermione looked unamused. She couldn’t help but wonder if Sirius had thought the same of her in her time. 

“I never knew you were close to the Longbottoms,” Hermione pressed gently. Sirius’ descent into madness suddenly made a lot more sense. The Potters had gone, Remus had been with the packs, Peter had just betrayed them. Not long later, the Longbottoms were tortured into insanity. They must have been his only support at the time. When Sirius only shrugged in response, she decided to ask, “Did you meet Neville?”

Sirius and Remus both raised their eyebrows. As they saw her smile, it seemed to click in their minds at the same time that Hermione would have known Neville personally. He was in the same year as Harry -- in the same year as her. “He’s absolutely wonderful. A kind friend and a very brave wizard. A wonderful addition to Gryffindor.”

Sirius smiled. He could feel his tears lodged in his throat. “They’d be proud?”

“The proudest.” She reached across the table and took Sirius’ hand. “We should take Harry over to see Neville. I’m sure both boys could do well with a regular playmate.”

Sirius nodded. “That sounds like it’d be good… for Harry.” Hermione tilted her head as she smiled warmly. Remus watched them silently, slightly in awe of the girl before him. She really was what Sirius had said…  _ a ray of sunshine _ . 

Hermione turned her smile on the werewolf. “And what did you two get up to today?”

“We went to the muggle pub around the corner.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “I’m not  _ your _ wife, so I’m  _ not _ going to remind you how detrimental to your health it is to drink so soon after the full moon.” Remus’ cheeks turned pink. “Eat all your food, the calories will help.” She turned her attention to Harry and helped him reach his sippy cup. He looked up at her with his big green eyes as he drank.

“No lecture for me?” Sirius asked with a smirk.

“You didn’t drink,” she responded without even looking away from Harry.

“Got a canine sense of smell there I didn’t know about?”

The witch turned back to her dinner with a small, amused smile. “‘A keen observer and an intelligent mind,’” she quoted.

“ _ Hogwarts, A History _ ?” Remus guessed, recognizing the quote in the chapter about Rowena Ravenclaw. 

Hermione nodded. “It’s my favourite book.”

“ _ That’s _ your favourite book?” Sirius questioned, stunned. Remus kicked his foot. “I mean, that’s your favourite book?” he repeated in a more intrigued tone of voice.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Tease away, I’m used to it. I know I’m a swot.” She sniffed and pretended to be unaffected.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “How did you become friends with Harry?” Sirius looked up from his plate, immediately curious.

Harry also looked up when he heard his name. He was using his fingers to eat a piece of broccoli, having foregone his fork. Hermione smiled at him. “He saved me from a mountain troll.” She looked up at the shocked expressions on the wizards’ faces. “You know what they say about bonds forged in… troll killing.”

Both wizards were silent for a long moment.

Sirius turned to Remus. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

* * *

Harry had finally gone down not long after dinner. He was snuggled up in bed with his toy Prongs, which he never went anywhere without since Sirius had given it to him. Hermione quietly closed the bedroom door behind her as she slipped back into the main room. 

She turned to find Sirius and Remus on the couch, chatting quietly. Remus smiled and nodded at her. He gestured to the end of the couch. “Join us?”

Hermione moved to do so and paused when she remembered the cake she had taken out to defrost. “Oh! I almost forgot.” Hermione disappeared into the kitchen and cut the chocolate dessert. She levitated over a slice each when she was done.

“Cake?” Sirius exclaimed excitedly. “What’s the occasion? Wait - don’t say. Let me just enjoy this moment.” He brought the cake close and breathed deeply. 

Remus snorted at his friend’s antics. “I take it desserts aren’t often allowed?”

Hermione laughed and sat down on the other end of the couch, Sirius between the two of them. She leaned back against the armrest and curled her legs under herself. “If I let Harry, he’d eat nothing but chocolate.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Remus gave a roguish smile and took a bite of the cake. He paused and his eyes fell shut as he moaned. “This… this is the best cake I’ve ever had.”

“I know.” She smiled and took her own bite of cake. “We got it for you on your last birthday. You fell in love with it and Sirius sent me out to buy a second one, all for you.”

Remus smiled at that. He turned to Sirius who was smiling strangely at the slice of cake before him. “You knew me well? You know, beyond being your professor?”

“Of course. Not only are you a family friend of the Potters, but you are Sirius’ best friend. You lived with all of us at Grimmauld Place.”

“Why did we live there?” Sirius asked. He had a million questions and if Hermione was being forthcoming for once, he was going to take full advantage.

“It was the Order Headquarters in my time,” she explained. “I lived there after fourth year and again after fifth. The Weasley’s stayed there with us the first summer. Members would come and go and meetings were held in the basement.”

Sirius grinned vaguely. “I can’t even imagine that. The Order running out my mother’s home?” He snorted in amusement. 

Hermione nodded. “Yeah, she wasn’t a huge fan of it. She’d scream and shriek from her portrait at the slightest sound.” Sirius froze. He looked up at Hermione, his eyes widening. His mother was dead? Obviously, she was dead, but… he’d never really thought about it before. Hermione’s eyes widened when she realized what she’d just revealed. “Sirius, I -”

“- It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not!” she protested.

“She’s a bitch,” Sirius snapped. “She’s been killing my father for  _ years _ . Everything would be different if she hadn’t of managed that. If he had still been around…” Remus looked past Sirius to Hermione.

The witch leaned forward. She touched his arm. “She’s still your mother.” He glared at the tele and said nothing. 

Remus looked back and forth between the two. “I feel like I’m missing something.” 

Hermione squeezed Sirius’ arm in comfort. “I’ll get us some glasses of milk.” She went into the kitchen and busied herself as Sirius quietly explained things to Remus. It was new and raw, what Walburga had done to Orion. The trial was still a few weeks away and Sirius hadn’t decided if he was going to speak on her behalf or against it… or not at all.

“I mean,” he was saying when she came back, “on the one hand, even when she hated me she still spoke on my behalf at the trial. On the other hand, she tried to murder dad.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “To be fair, she spoke on your behalf saying you were a Death Eater that sold out your friends.”

Sirius nodded. “There is that.” He took his glass of milk from her as she sat back down beside him. She curled her leg under her body and her knee pressed against his thigh. Sirius automatically rested his hand on her thigh. Their bond sparked like a match between them. Hermione’s cheeks turned pink. She sipped from her glass, using it to cover up her sudden shyness. Sirius turned his head toward her and smiled awkwardly. 

Remus cleared his throat, looking beyond amused. “When do you have to give your answer?”

“Not for a while yet.”

Remus shrugged. “I think you should wait for it. Things with your family have never been… easy,” he ended with a lack of a better word.

Sirius snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’ll say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> xx


	11. Chapter Eleven

##  _ _

##  _ \- April 4, 1983 - _

The flat was a mess. Harry’s toys were scattered across the dining area. Crayons left a minefield on the floor. The living room had been turned into a blanket fort, held up precariously by a broomstick. The kitchen looked like a bomb had gone off. It was a disaster.

A few hours prior, an exhausted Hermione had been persuaded by the two Marauders to go take a nap. Harry had been over the moon to play ‘big boy games’ as he called it. Reluctantly, Hermione agreed. Two hours later, all three wizards had destroyed the flat.

And now here they were, attempting to teach Harry muggle baseball -- inside. In hindsight, they should have seen how that was a bad idea. Remus had transfigured a broom into a t-ball stand and Sirius had produced an actual bat from his closet. They set a ball on the top of the stand and showed Harry how to swing the bat.

“Alright,” Sirius declared. “Let me show you how it’s done.” He swung the bat at the ball. A loud crash sounded as it hit a mirror. The glass shattered and fell to the floor. Harry screamed in fright. 

“Padfoot!” Remus shouted.

Sirius winced. He turned to where Harry had been standing but the boy was gone. He heard a whimper and spun towards it. Harry was hiding under the kitchen table. He had his arms over his head. “Harry! Harry, it’s okay.” He moved a chair aside and Harry screamed.

The bedroom door opened. Hermione dashed out and her eyes widened at the sight before her. “What happened out here?” She had tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes were red. She didn’t look like she’d slept well at all.

“We were playing a game,” Remus explained weakly. He eyed her frazzled state with worry.

Sirius looked over the top of the kitchen table. “Harry got scared,” he quickly put in. 

Hermione raced around the table and crouched down beside him. “Harry, sweetie?” He had his arms around his knees and his face hidden. His shoulders shook with what she knew were silent tears.

Hermione wiped away the tears from her face. “Harry, please come out. I’m here, darling. I’m right here.” She reached out a hand and gently touched his messy black hair. Harry leaned into the soft caress. 

“‘Mione…” he cried.

“Sh… It’s okay, sweetie.” He crawled out from under the table and into her waiting arms. She pulled him into her embrace and pressed a kiss to his head. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Scary,” he sobbed, his other words were lost in her jumper.

“I know, darling. I know.” She stood with him still in her arms. “Come on, I think we’ve had enough playtime today, yes?” He nodded into her neck. 

Remus stepped forward. “Hermione…” He reached a hand out towards her in apology.

Hermione flinched away. “Just… clean this mess up.” The bedroom door closed softly behind her.

Remus turned to his best friend. “What just happened?”

Sirius had his eyes narrowed as he stared after where Hermione had disappeared off to. “I’m not sure. Have you ever tried to touch her before?” His mind cast back to all the interactions he remembered seeing between Hermione and Remus since the latter had moved in.

“No, I mean yes. I mean Harry. What happened to Harry?”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “I told you how he was after the Dursleys.”

“Yeah, but I thought… He seemed fine in the past two weeks.”

Sirius scoffed. “Nah, Hermione’s just a miracle worker. Haven’t you noticed how quiet she likes to keep the place?”

“I thought she was just being respectful to neighbours.”

Sirius nodded once as if he’d never considered that before. Remus rolled his eyes. The animagus nodded to his friend. “But what about that flinch?” he pressed, his mind still stuck on his distraught wife.

“The attack?” Remus guessed.

Sirius hummed. His eyes were firmly fixed on the door. “We haven’t talked about it beyond what I said.”

“She hasn’t dealt with it,” Remus agreed.

Sirius licked his lips as he thought. “Let’s get this place cleaned up. She’ll have our bollocks if we don’t.” Remus made a sound of agreement. The two of them got to work.

When Hermione exited the bedroom an hour later, the flat was clean. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she whispered to them. Remus nodded once. Sirius jumped from the couch to his feet. 

“Grab your coat.”

“What?”

“We’ve got to go take care of a few things.”

“What things?” she asked defensively. “I can’t leave. Harry’s napping.”

Sirius shrugged on his leather jacket. “Which means he won’t even know you’re missing.” He pulled her jean jacket off the coat wrack and held it out for her.

Hermione looked to Remus for backup. “If he wakes up?”

“I’ll be here,” the werewolf assured. Hermione made a face. That clearly wasn’t the reaction she was hoping for. 

“But-”

“-Come on,” Sirius urged. He helped her into her jacket. “You need to cut the cord at some point.” She glared over her shoulder at him. Sirius rested his hands on her shoulders. His heat spread through her body and tingled with the magic of their bond. “He’ll be fine,” he whispered.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay.” She spun around. “For how long?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“ _ Sirius _ …” she groaned. 

He smirked and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Come on. We’re running late as it is.”

“For what?”

He didn’t respond. He guided her out the door and down to the ground floor. They stepped out onto Diagon Alley together. Sirius led her around the side of the building. Her eyes widened when she saw what was waiting for them. His motorcycle. 

“You got it back?”

Sirius grinned at her comment. “You’ve seen it? Gone for a ride?”

Hermione snorted. “As if.”

“Well, we’re going to today.” He grabbed the handlebars and kicked up the stand. He walked the bike out from the alley. When he reached the street, he looked over his shoulder to his wife. “Coming?”

Hermione jogged to catch up. “I’m not riding that thing.”

“Why not? You’ve ridden far more dangerous things.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if he knew about her fly from Scotland to London on the back of a thestral. “Have I?” She hadn’t told him about that, had she?

He threw her a wink. “Of course. You rode me, didn’t you?”

Hermione let out a startled laugh. “Sirius!” Before she could think up a comeback, they’d reached the entrance to the Leaky. “Can we bring this in here?”

“Yeah, Tom doesn’t mind. Just gotta disillusion it before I take it through to muggle London. Come on.” She opened the door and followed Sirius through the crowded bar. He disillusioned the bike while she held the door open for him. When Sirius had the bike on the street, he dropped the spell. Not a single muggle seemed to notice it’s sudden appearance.

Sirius swung a leg over the bike and nodded at her to hop on.

Hermione made a face. “Do I have to?”

“She broke into the Department of Mysteries and  _ this _ she balks at,” he deadpanned as if speaking to a third person.

“I don’t like flying,” she protested.

Sirius gave her a look. “We’re in muggle London, baby. What makes you think I’m going to make it fly?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t call me that.”

“Get on the bike,  _ baby _ .” His tone brokered no alternative. She sighed and got on the bike behind him. 

“Helmets?” she asked. Sirius’ laugh was her only answer as he gunned the engine. He took off down the street. Hermione squealed and wrapped her arms around his waist. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed herself against his back. She heard Sirius whoop with glee. Merlin, she was married to a madman. 

Sirius weaved between cars and through traffic without a care in the world. Not a single cop car caught them. Hermione suspected that Sirius had charmed his bike so the police wouldn’t notice them. By the time they reached their destination, Hermione felt like she’d been on the longest roller coaster of her life. “Is it over?” she whimpered.

Sirius barked out a laugh. “Yeah, you can let go now. Or not, I don’t mind.” She groaned and immediately let go. Sirius couldn’t contain his chuckle at her reaction. He followed her off the bike.

“Where are we?” She looked over her shoulder at the long stretch of driveway they’d come down. There was neatly mowed green grass surrounding the property and tall trees along the edges. Big bushes and evergreen trees dotted the land along the driveway.

There was a massive house before them that was made of cream coloured stucco and a brown roof. She could see another, separate building around the back made of brown brick. It was a manor. 

“Not that far outside London. Five bedrooms, three baths. What do you think?” He hopped up the steps and opened the front door.

A feeling of dread filled Hermione. “Please tell me you didn’t buy this place.” She followed him into the house. It was bright and airy. It had a homey feel to it.

“Not yet, thinking ‘bout it.” He turned to her. “Why? You don’t like it?”

“It’s a monster of a house, Sirius.” She crossed her arms. “Just because the flat is too small doesn’t mean we need to buy a mansion.”

“It’s not a mansion,” he argued. He took her hand and led her through to the kitchen. He pointed out the window over the sink. “See that? The house? It’s a single with a kitchen and a bath. I figured Remus could live there if he wants more space.”

Hermione turned and shot him a look. “Remus would immediately assume that meant you didn’t actually want him around.” Sirius opened his mouth but no words came out. “I refuse to live on this much square footage. It’s useless. It’s what rich people do when they can’t think of a better use for their money.”

“Oi.”

Hermione crossed her arms and cocked her hip to the side. “Harry will need to be enrolled in school in a few years. If he’s downtown then he’ll be closer to the school, which is good for extracurriculars. And then there are parks and after-school activities.” She wanted Harry involved in all the things he’d missed the first time around.

“Muggle school?” Sirius asked, sounding confused but not all that surprised.

“Lily was a muggle-born. So am I.” She shrugged. “I know that I’d want  _ my _ son to know about my heritage. It’s his as well.”

Sirius smiled. “Lily would agree. Alright, something smaller?” Hermione shrugged. “Brilliant, next one then.”

“Wait - what? Next one? How many of these do you have lined up?”

He shrugged. “As many as it takes.”

Hermione didn’t like the sound of that. Three houses later and she hated it. 

Sirius pulled up to the next place. It was only about twenty minutes from Grimmauld Place. Hermione had expected to hate it the second she realized they were basically right around the corner from Buckingham Palace. As nice as it would be to live a short walk away from the palace gardens and St. James’ Park, it would be weird living near so many professionals. 

She really did expect to hate it, but it was beautiful. It was four floors, not including the basement and styled in that classic tall, lean way downtown London homes often were. The basement and first levels were white and the upper three floors were made of brown brick. White panelled windows were placed symmetrically across the row of townhomes all attached to one another.

Sirius opened the door and led her inside. The living room was big and spacious. The kitchen was long and clean and filled with state of the art appliances. “There are two ovens,” Hermione gasped with awe. She’d never seen a home with two ovens before. There was a long counter that stretched through the kitchen and towards the glass kitchen table. On the other side were glass doors that led out to the deck. Lining the backyard were planters filled with flowers. Hermione could already imagine the magical herbs she could grow there.

Down the wooden steps, there was another set of doors that led to the basement apartment. It was built with large bookcases that were built into the walls. The bathroom had a tall glass standing shower.

“We’d have to renovate that,” she told him, nodding to the shower. He peeked over her head, his hands on her shoulders. “Remus needs a bath after the full moon.”

“That’s an easy fix.”

She hummed in agreement. 

The second floor had a big study filled with bookcases. The windows looked out over the front porch. There was also a bedroom and a bath on that floor. On the third floor was the master bedroom, a walk-in closet, and an ensuite bathroom. Right next to it was a smaller bedroom and a hall bath. The fourth floor had the last bedroom and bath as well as a spacious rec room. 

“I like it,” Hermione claimed as she looked through the books in the library on the second floor once more.

Sirius nodded in agreement. “Not a lot of space in the backyard, but we’re right by the park and real close to the Leaky. And we’re right downtown.”

“And it’s not a million years old,” she added, referring to the third house they’d looked at.

“And Remus won’t feel like he’s being kicked out by living in the basement.”

“He even has the option to live in a different room. He could take the top floor.” She picked up one of the books and flipped through it.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her. “Not the one on this floor?” he asked, curious for her response after she flinched away from Remus earlier.

Hermione shook her head. “I thought your dad might like it. He used to be a lawyer in the Wizengamot, right? I’m sure he’d like to be close to the study.”

Sirius smiled at her logic. She was selflessly considerate. It startled him every time she instantly thought of someone else first. Not just because he rarely did, but because they were often people that mattered more to him. “So… it’s not the werewolf thing?”

Hermione put the book back. She turned to him. “What’re you talking about? You know I have no issues with Remus’ condition.”

He nodded. He did know that. At times, he thought she might take better care of Remus than she did of him. She was constantly making sure Remus was eating enough calories and getting enough sleep. New articles of clothing randomly popped up in his bag when he wasn’t looking. It was a lot like the way James had always been with Remus. Both remaining Marauders took comfort in it.

“I know you have nightmares,” Sirius explained slowly. Hermione immediately tensed. “And I’ve seen you get antsy with strangers and I figured that had more to do with the time travel stuff… Moony is family and I know you think so too, but he’s also the only man you’ve really been around besides me.”

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. “What’re you trying to say, Sirius?”

“Did he touch you?”

“Who?”

“The one who attacked you. I know he hurt you,” Sirius added quickly when she looked like she was going to fib about it. Hermione shut her mouth, “I read Kingsley’s report. You said… he was obsessed with you? Hermione did he…?”

“ _ No _ ,” she immediately assured. “But he tried.” Her brows drew together. “It happened months ago now.”

“Just because he didn’t… it doesn’t mean it’s not still traumatizing.” Hermione looked away. “You can tell me anything, Hermione. I won’t hurt you. I won’t judge you.” Sirius brought his hands up to her arms and squeezed them in a comforting manner. The magic thrummed through their contact. “You need to talk about it.”

Her gaze hardened. “Have you talked about James and Lily?” she snapped.

Sirius’ fingers tightened. “Yes, actually. With Remus. It sort of occurred to me that you can’t do the same. This isn’t exactly a topic Harry can handle at his age.”

Her anger slowly ebbed away at his response. She rolled her eyes and huffed. “Please, at my age, he’d probably go ballistic and kill the bloke.”

“Well, good to know he got something from his godfather.”

Hermione laughed despite herself. Her eyes teared up as she thought about what this time’s Sirius would do if he found out the whole truth. If he knew it was Snape who’d hurt her, he’d go crazy. If she didn’t tell him anything, he’d keep searching for answers and she didn’t want that. Her bottom lip wobbled. “I… he was always mean,” she whispered. “He has picked on me relentlessly ever since I was a first-year.”

A wave of rage crashed through his body. “He was your  _ professor _ ?”

She nodded. “When I became fifteen… he started to make me uncomfortable. Just with the way he looked at me. I… didn’t like it. You and Remus told me to stay away from him.” She looked up at him. “You specifically told me to never be alone with him, not if I can help it.”

“That’s why I offered to marry you,” he breathed out in realization.

“It was horrible,” she explained in a watery whisper. “He was too strong to fight off and I didn’t have my wand.” Her tears fell. “He’s been teaching for  _ years _ .” She didn’t have to explain that thought any further. If he’d become obsessed with her, how many other girls had it happened to as well?

“Sh…” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “It’s okay. He’s not here. It’s just me. I’ve got you.” 

Hermione’s body shook as she broke down into sobs. “You - you were there. Just before I disappeared. You were there.” He rubbed his hand up and down her back. “It’s all gone. Everything’s gone.”

“Sh…” He held her until her tears dried. Hermione sniffled. Her fingers gripped his now sodden shirt and Sirius pressed a kiss to the top of her head. A wave of warmth spread through her body. The magic of their bond worked to heal her emotional wounds. After a long silence, Sirius said, “Will you tell me who it was?”

That startled a laugh out of her. Sirius jerked back, surprised by her response. “After all the effort I went through to get you  _ out _ of Azkaban?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Alright, fair point.” He pulled her back into his embrace and rested his chin on her head. “Let’s get this place, baby.”

Hermione nodded against his chest even as she rolled her eyes at his silly pet name. The only pet name she’d ever accept was ‘kitten,’ but she wasn’t about to tell him that. She sniffed and wiped away her tears. “Yeah, okay.”

When they got back to the flat, Harry was in the middle of a massive meltdown.

“I want cookie!” he screamed.

“No more cookies,” Remus stated firmly.

“What’s going on?”

Harry turned to Hermione. There were tears streaming down his face as he sobbed. His words were nearly incoherent except for a stray “Moony” and “no cookie.” Hermione raised her eyebrows. “You know the rules on cookies, Harry.”

“ _ Please _ ,” he cried, sounding like he thought he’d die if he didn’t get another cookie right away.

Hermione shook her head. “It’s too late for more sugar. I think it’s time for bed.” She reached down and picked him up even as he turned away.

“ _ No… _ ”

Hermione shushed soothingly as she rubbed his back. “It’s been a long day. I think I need a cuddle. Will you cuddle me, darling?” Harry turned and pressed his wet face into her neck. He pouted and didn’t say anything at all. “It’s alright.” She continued to rub his back as she entered the bedroom. “I’ve got you, sweetie.” The door closed behind them. 

Remus turned to Sirius. He sighed and his shoulders slumped. “Please tell me you had an easier time than I did.”

Sirius nodded and headed towards the fridge. “We talked it out a bit. I think she’s okay now. She’ll be alright, at least. Nothing happened,” he assured. He tossed his friend a butterbeer and opened the other for himself.

Remus nodded and let out a breath of relief. “Thank Merlin for small mercies.” He twisted open his drink and took a long gulp. He needed it after dealing with Harry for the past four hours. He didn’t know how Hermione did it every day.

“He was her professor. Not just for one year but since she was a first-year.”

“What?” They sat down on the couch. “I thought he was an Order member? Dumbledore allowed this?"

"Apparently." 

Remus made a face. “What sort of men is Dumbledore hiring that the professor is not only a pedophile but a rapist?”

Sirius turned to Remus. “I don’t appreciate the fact that you call him a pedophile considering I married her myself, thank you.” 

His friend rolled his eyes, a small grin on his face. “Yes, but you’d never have the hots for a  _ child _ . You’re not a pedophile. You’re just a manwhore.”

“No doubt about it,” Sirius immediately agreed. They were quiet for a moment. “I think she’ll be okay. She hadn’t talked about it at all. She hasn’t got anyone  _ to _ talk to about it. I… I can’t even imagine being in her position.”

Remus nodded slowly. “She’s got us now. And it might not be in the same capacity, but she’s got Harry. And by that I mean he will never desert her. He asked about her every five minutes.” Remus took another chug of his beer.

Sirius rubbed his face. “Yeah, she didn’t like leaving him alone. We need to work on that.” Remus made a noise of assent. Sirius slouched in his seat. He clapped his hand on Remus’ thigh. “By the way, we bought a house.”

His friend raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated: Jan 2021


	12. Chapter Twelve

##  _ _

##  _ \- May 6, 1983 - _

“You should’ve said something,” Sirius argued again as they made their way through the muggle salvage yard. 

Remus rolled his eyes. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just a job at a shop.”

“It’s a job!” Sirius exclaimed. He pointed at his best friend. “You’re currently the only breadwinner at the flat. You’re  _ the _ breadwinner.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re rich. I don’t think it counts.” Sirius shrugged. “Are you going to get a job? Go back to the aurors, maybe?”

Sirius made a face. “You remember when James dropped out after training?” He picked up an old muffler. He was scavenging for motorcycle parts to fix up his bike. Or make a new one, despite how annoyed Hermione would be if he did.

“He said he needed to do something less risky. Fighting in the Order was one thing, but he had to look out for Lily… now that she was pregnant.” Remus’ eyes widened. He punched Sirius in the arm.

“Ow! What’s that for?”

“Did you get Hermione pregnant?”

“What? No!” Remus didn’t look convinced. “We’re not even sleeping together.” Remus looked less convinced at that pronouncement. Sirius glared at him. “Where did you think we’d be shagging? You and I are snuggling on an enlarged couch and Hermione’s cuddling with my godson every night. When would we even find the time?” He sighed and Remus was finally pacified. “I  _ meant _ , Harry and Hermione. I don’t want to do something dangerous.”

“But you are thinking about getting a job?” 

Sirius shrugged again. “I guess. Can’t really think of anything, though.” He scratched at the scruff along his cheek. He kicked a hunk of metal out of their path. “Maybe Minnie will have a few ideas.”

“Speaking of, we should head out soon if we don’t want to be late.”

Sirius looked up at the sky. The sun was already starting to set. “Yeah, alright.” They turned the corner of the salvage yard. Sirius came to a sudden stop. His eyes widened. “Bleeding hell, is that?” He rushed forward. “It is!” It was an old, beat up, classic MG Magnette ZA from 1955. “Oh, she’s beautiful.”

Remus snorted. “She’s a bit roughed up.” It was an understatement. It was missing two doors and the trunk.

“She just needs some TLC.” He opened up the hood. It was missing an engine. “Alright, a lot of TLC.”

Remus crossed his arms. “An understatement.” He looked over the slightly boxy car. “I didn’t realize this was your style.”

Sirius grinned and winked. “It’s a sports car for the family man. You think Hermione would approve?” He wasn’t even embarrassed to ask. If she didn’t approve, she wouldn’t let Harry in it. If they were going to live in muggle London, Sirius wanted something to drive Harry around in. He didn’t like to rely on public transit, especially not of the wizarding kind.

Remus shrugged. “Maybe if you don’t show her what it looks like now.”

Sirius nodded once in agreement. “I’ll let Frankie know I’m taking it. He’ll take it to the shop for me to work on. Come on, we’ve got to head out.” He clapped Remus on the back and the two-headed back to the main building of the salvage yard. After Sirius paid for the car and the space to fix it up, the two left. 

Remus apparated them to Hogsmeade. The streets were busy with students out for their Hogsmeade trip. They skirted around the masses and made their way into the Three Broomsticks. It was packed with people. Sirius waved to Madame Rosmerta. 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she greeted with a sly smile. She leaned forward over the bar and gave him a generous view of her cleavage.

Sirius shook his head in appreciation. “Merlin, Rose. You look beautiful as ever.”

Rosmerta winked. “Keep it in your trousers, Black. You’re a married man now.”

“You’re right.  _ Remus _ on the other hand, you’ve met Remus.” He gestured over his shoulder to the taller wizard.

The werewolf rolled his eyes. He grabbed Sirius by the neck of his leather jacket and forced him away from the bar. “Alright, come on.”

“What? I’m just trying to help.”

“You’re a menace,” Remus growled. His anger didn’t lessen the blush from his cheeks.

Sirius laughed and allowed himself to be pushed further into the pub.

Minerva saw them first. She raised an eyebrow at the familiar style of manhandling and turned her scolding stare on Remus. “Do I even want to ask?”

Remus shook his head. “It’s not even worth it.”

“Padfoot!” Harry exclaimed excitedly. Sirius grinned brightly and slid into the booth with Harry and Hermione. His godson gave him a hug. “Let’s play!”

Sirius laughed and ruffled Harry’s messy hair. “In a bit, we’re having dinner with Minnie first.” Harry pouted. “Be nice, she’s going to be your Head of House one day.”

Minnie pursed her lips to hide a smile. “You don’t know that.” She shifted in her seat so that Remus could join her.

Sirius and Remus both looked to Hermione who smiled awkwardly. “Things could change,” she responded weakly. She glanced at her old Head of House, still awkward despite Sirius’ assurance that she was in on the secret.

“They won’t,” Sirius and Remus chorused. “He’s a Gryffindor,” Sirius continued in a self-assured voice. “Isn’t that right, Har? You want to go join the Gryffindors, don’t you?”

Harry looked up at him with his big green eyes. “With ‘Mione?”

Remus and Hermione laughed. “Yes, sweetie.” She pressed a kiss to his head. “I’ll be there too.” A weird feeling crept over her. Will she be there? Would another version of herself still go to Hogwarts? Things hadn’t changed enough to stop that, had they?

Before Hermione could descend into a frenzy of paranoia and fear, Remus asked,“Have you three been waiting long?” 

“Not at all,” Minerva answered. “We just grabbed a table before you two showed up.” She slid a butterbeer across the table for each of them. “How are things with you, Remus? It’s been too long.”

“Not bad… I - uh… I got a job.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “What? I didn’t know that!”

“Congratulations,” Minerva put in and Hermione echoed the professor’s statement. 

“Where is it?” Hermione questioned. She pushed the toy Prongs away that Harry tried to shove in her face. “Harry,” she scolded lightly. They were working on getting him to understand that it was rude to interrupt Hermione in conversations. She was the only person he did it with. Harry pouted and cuddled his toy.

“Just a small shop in Diagon Alley,” Remus was explaining as he shrugged. “They sell potions ingredients.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And you’ll be okay with that?” On a regular day, Remus’ increased sense of smell usually put him off of going to the readymade foods section of the grocer. The closer he got to the full moon, the stronger his senses became. He’d once confessed to her -- in her original timeline -- that he’d nearly failed potions because of his affliction. 

Remus shrugged. “I’ll handle it fine.”

“Do they know?” Sirius asked.

The werewolf shook his head. “I took the day off and the day after off this week. I’ll do the same next month.” 

Sirius and Hermione exchanged a look, but said nothing. Sirius took a sip of his butterbeer to stop himself from making a comment. He knew from experience that it wouldn’t last. Remus would quickly become overworked and stressed out. It was the same thing that always happened. What Remus needed was a job that knew about his lycanthropy and cared to give him leeway. Unfortunately, a job like that would be nearly impossible to find in the wizarding world.

“That sounds lovely, dear,” Minerva stated when the couple across from her clearly had nothing positive to say. “I’m very happy for you.” Remus smiled at her praise. Their professor turned her gaze on Sirius. “And you seem to be doing better… considering.”

Sirius winced and nodded. “Yeah, things have been weird.”

“Have you talked to your mother?” Sirius’ snort said it all. Minerva’s lips pressed into a tight line. 

Hermione shot Minerva an understanding look. She was also of the opinion that Sirius should talk to his mother. Walburga had been in custody for over a month now. The lawyers still needed to know if Sirius would even be speaking at her trial. Remus was on the fence about it, deciding to stay silent on the matter. Hermione wished she could say she was surprised, but it was pretty standard for him.

“Anyways,” Sirius drawled as he changed the topic, “we bought a house.”

“Really?” Minerva went along with the change in topic smoothly.

Rosmerta stopped by their table, a mug filled with crayons in her hand. “Here you go, darling.” She set it on the table with a couple of parchments of paper.

“Thank you, Rosmerta,” Hermione said with a smile.

Rose smiled at Harry and winked. “Anything for our most handsome patron.”

Sirius’ brows drew together as the bar owner left. “I’m almost offended.” Remus snorted in amusement.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she pulled the sheets of parchment towards her. She dumped out the crayons and set Harry up with his activity while Sirius explained to Minerva about the house they’d bought.

“It’s big. Beautiful. Modern. Muggle, but real close to the Leaky.” He took a sip of his butterbeer. “And we’ll have a car to go with it.”

“Harry is  _ not _ getting on the motorcycle.”

Sirius leaned closer to her over Harry’s head. “I bought a car.”

Hermione’s head shot up. “Since when?”

“‘bout ten minutes ago.” She raised an eyebrow. “It’s a classic 1955, two-door with four wheels. There’s nothing to worry about. I just need to fix her up a bit.” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes on him. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He leaned closer, a devious little twinkle in his eye that she knew all too well. “You’ll love it, buttercup.” Hermione wrinkled her nose and made a sound of disgust that was echoed by Professor McGonagall.

“ _ What _ is that?” the professor demanded, aghast.

Sirius smiled broadly. “I’m trying to find a good pet name.”

Minerva snorted and took a sip of her firewhiskey. “Keep looking,” she commented in an undertone, her Scottish brogue coming through. Hermione laughed.

“He hasn’t stopped since we went house hunting,” she confided in the older witch, looking for sympathy. “At least you missed ‘sugar plum’ and ‘dollface.’”

Sirius raised his finger. “I stand by ‘dollface.’” He winked at her and Hermione rolled her eyes, even though she was smiling. “And it’s your own fault that this has continued. I was fine with ‘baby.’”

Hermione sighed. She tipped her head towards the older witch. “I may have made a comment about how Sirius…  _ before _ … had a nickname for me.”

McGonagall shook her head as she sipped her firewhiskey. “You threw yourself into that hole, lass.”

“Just tell me what it was,” Sirius pleaded. 

“No.”

“A hint.”

Hermione pursed her lips and helped Harry as he crawled closer to her. She plopped him in her lap and let him continue colouring. Hermione turned to Sirius and narrowed her eyes as she thought. “You’ll have to wait until October.”

“ _ October _ ?” His eyes widened. “October? So, it’s something you can dress up as. A witch? Did I call you ‘little witch?’”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “When I was thirteen.”

Sirius nodded and looked away. “Never calling you  _ that _ again,” he decided. The others laughed. The night progressed well. Dinner was served and the banter around the table flowed easily.

Remus took Harry to the loo while Sirius went up to the bar to pay their tab. Hermione turned to her old professor with an eager smile in place. “I have a favour to ask of you.”

Minerva raised her eyebrows in interest. “Oh?” 

She licked her lips nervously. “I was wondering if you had any pictures of James and Lily? I wanted to collect as many as I could to create an album.” She’d gotten the idea from Hagrid and the album he’d given Harry his first year of school. “I could show it to Harry like a storybook every night.”

Minerva smiled. “That’s a wonderful idea. I know I have a few. I’ll ask around for you for some others.”

“Thank you so much.” Her eyes teared up and she blinked quickly to keep them at bay. “This has been wonderful. I’m really glad we finally got to do it.”

Minerva reached across the table and took her hands. “I’d like to make it more frequent. We should set a regular Hogsmeade date.”

Hermione nodded eagerly. “I’d really like that. Thank you, professor.” She quickly wiped away the happy tear that fell.

“‘Mione! ‘Mione!” Harry cried out happily, breaking up their moment. He crawled up onto the booth and wrapped his arms around her neck. “Ice cream now?”

Hermione laughed. “Sure, sweetheart. Let’s grab some in the Leaky on our way home.” Harry cheered.

* * *

Harry raced across the grass with Prongs in his hand. He jumped around and made noises as he flew the deer through the air. He ran quickly and for a moment he was so fast he felt his feet float off the ground. He stumbled and fell. 

He landed on his hands and knees. Harry shook his head and jumped back to his feet. He brushed off his hands and picked Prongs back up. He turned when he heard ‘Mione’s voice and waved his hand high in the air. She was probably telling him to be careful. She was always doing that. He liked it.

Harry turned back around and his attention was caught by a young blonde woman wiping ice cream from a boy’s face. He looked about Harry’s age and had bright blonde curly hair. He watched as the boy thanked the woman and called her “mummy.” 

Harry hugged his toy Prongs to his chest. He wanted a mummy. She was gone, he knew. Uncle Vernon used to say his mummy and daddy hadn’t wanted him and neither did they. Harry pouted just thinking about it. It’d been a long time since he’d thought about his aunt and uncle.

The boy held out a bouquet of hand-picked flowers and said, “For you mummy.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

‘Mione called him “sweetie” too. She also wiped his face and kissed his ouchies. She gave the best hugs and she always had time to cuddle with him. Most importantly, Hermione wanted him. She took him away from his aunt and uncle. She’d promised to always be with him. Harry decided then that ‘Mione would be the perfect mummy. He wanted her to be his mummy. 

Hermione had assured him that his mummy and daddy loved him very much. They would be with him if they could. But they weren’t there. Hermione was there. Hermione was going to be his mummy, he decided firmly.

He turned around and searched for some wildflowers. He saw a patch of bright yellow buttercups and raced over to them. He picked a handful of them before heading back towards the others.

Harry went up to ‘Mione on the picnic blanket between Moony and Padfoot. He held out the flowers. “For mummy.” 

Hermione’s eyes widened. Everyone tensed, though Harry didn’t notice. He smiled sweetly at his new mummy. “... th - thank you, sweetie.” Harry’s smile widened. He wrapped his arms around her neck and snuggled into her chest. Hermione turned wide, frantic eyes on her husband. Sirius shot a look to Remus who quickly separated Harry and Hermione. 

“Let’s go for a walk near the water, alright, Harry?” He took the boy by the hand and led him away. 

Hermione was up like a shot. She raced away from their picnic blanket and down a path lined with trees. Sirius jumped up and raced after her. “Hermione!” She kept running. They turned the bend, well out of Harry and Remus' line of sight before she finally stopped. 

Hermione pressed her hands against the rough bark of a tree trunk as she gasped for breath. Her eyes flooded with tears as the sobs escaped her. Sirius stopped a few feet away. His shoulders dropped as he sighed. He let her cry it out for a moment before he felt it was time to intervene. 

Sirius gently touched her back. Hermione gasped in a breath and stilled. She didn't turn away from the tree. Sirius took hold of her arm and gently turned her around. Hermione buried her face into his chest.

"Sh… it’s okay,” Sirius soothed. “Lily wouldn’t be upset.” He was actually fairly certain that Lily would have thrown a tantrum of epic proportions if her son called anyone else ‘mummy,’ but didn’t think Hermione needed to hear that.

She shook her head. “I - I don’t care,” she sobbed. “I - It’s not fair.” Hermione looked up at him, her eyes almost golden from the effect of her tears. He tightened his arms around her on reflex. She sobbed against him. “I’m  _ seventeen _ ,” she cried. “I - I didn’t even get to finish Hogwarts.” Sirius fought not to stiffen at that revelation. He hadn’t known that. “I’m too young to be a mum. I never wanted to be a… I can’t…” She shook her head as her words grew lost amongst her cries.

Sirius pressed a comforting kiss to the top of her head. His hand ran up and down her back, soothing her much the same way Hermione often did for Harry. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. 

Hermione pulled back and looked up at him. Her face was splotchy and her eyes puffy. “What do we say to him?”

Sirius shrugged, lost for an easy way out. “What  _ can _ we say? Could you tell him no about something like this?”

She didn’t respond. Her silence said more than any words could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: Jan 2021
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> xx


	13. Chapter Thirteen

##  _ _

##  _ \- May 14, 1983 - _

Hermione awoke to the smell of rose petals and scented candles. She rubbed her eyes, swollen from her most recent tears. The past few days had been hard, what with Harry’s new penchant for calling her “mummy.” 

Sirius and Remus were fine with it. Sirius explained to Hermione that when there was a lack of maternal figure in one’s life, one automatically searched for someone to fill that hole. He’d done the same with Professor McGonagall. Hermione had been shocked to hear just how close he and the Head of House were. She hadn’t realized he thought of her as a maternal figure. 

“If she could have,” Sirius had told her when they’d discussed it, “I think she would have adopted me. I certainly wouldn’t have complained. Anything to get away from…  _ her _ .” There’d been that overt hate and underlying bitterness that was always present when Sirius mentioned his mum. For the first time though, Hermione felt like there was more to the story that she was missing. She hadn’t pushed the topic, knowing it was too fresh, what with all the trial business still happening. 

Hermione sighed and sat up in bed. Sirius had convinced her to take a nap. She raised an eyebrow when she saw red rose petals covering the bed. He’d clearly been up to a lot while she was asleep. 

Hermione slipped out of bed and ducked her head out of the bedroom. “Sirius?” she called. Her brows drew together when she saw the spotless flat. It was cleaner than she’d seen it in weeks. “Remus? Harry?”

She was about to go in search of her missing roommates when Harry came careening towards her from the living room. “Mummy, no!” he shouted.

“What’s going on, Harry?”

Harry’s hands pressed against her belly and pushed her back into the bedroom. “Bath time, mummy.”

“What do you mean, bath time?” She looked over her shoulder and finally noticed that the rose petals were leading in a trail to the bathroom. Harry took her hand and guided her into the room. It was lit by candles along every available surface. There were bubbles and flower petals in the tub with the steaming hot water. Hermione’s eyes widened. “What’s going on?”

Harry looked up at her, his eyebrows drawn together in an adorably serious manner. “Bath time,” he stated obviously. He raced around her and scurried out of the room. The door slammed closed behind her.

“Harry!” She tried to open the door but it was stuck. “Harry James Potter, you open this door right now.”

“Bloody hell, princess,” Sirius cursed from the other side of the door. “Can’t you just be a good girl and take a bath?”

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the door. “Don’t call me that. And don’t tell me what to do.”

“ _ Hermione _ ,” he sighed. “Just relax. Please. We’re trying to do something nice.” He paused then said, “We all worked together on this.”

Hermione let out a deep breath. She hated relinquishing control. “Fine. Please don’t burn the place down with me locked in here.”

Sirius chuckled. “I’ll unlock it now. Your wand’s on the side table. There’s an alarm set for you as well, so don’t mess with it.” She heard the door unclick and sighed with relief. She turned the knob just in case and was happy to note he had really unlocked the door for her.

Pacified, Hermione turned towards the luxurious bath. It had been ages since she’d had a soothing bubble bath. She’d taken them frequently before she ended up in the past. 

With a happy smile on her lips, Hermione stripped out of her nightgown. She dipped a toe into the water before plunging in. It was divine. She moaned as she sank beneath the bubbles. Immediately, she knew Remus had set up the bubble bath. He was a genius with bubble baths. Hermione smiled, remembering Tonks and Sirius teasing him about it at Grimmauld. Potions he was pants at, but bubble baths? Sirius had called him the “Bubble Bath King.”

Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut as she leaned her head back against the rolled-up towel. The candles flickered warmly. The bubbles fizzed and popped lowly in the background. It was quiet and peaceful. 

She smiled to herself. Her boys had done this for her. Her boys. It was such a sweet thought.

Hermione had vanished the bubbles and was finishing up cleaning her hair when her wand began to vibrate. She reached over for the wand and cancelled the alarm. It had been months since she’d gotten to actually wash her hair. Curly hair required the sort of upkeep that didn’t mix well with a house of boys -- one of which was liable to cry if she was gone too long. 

She took the opportunity to properly condition her hair. Once she was finished, she climbed out of the bath and dried off. She pulled out some curl cream and liberally applied it through her tresses followed by gel. When she entered the bedroom again, her eyes widened at the dress she found on the bed.

It was a long red wrap dress with sheer sleeves. Hermione gently touched the silky fabric. Her lips curled into a smile. She went back into the bathroom and carefully dried her hair with her wand. The curls fell into coils and tight ringlets around her face and down her back. She crossed her fingers that she’d applied enough product to stop them from turning into a mess of frizz within a day.

Hermione collected the small bits of makeup she’d accumulated in the past. A little bit of mascara and lipgloss later, Hermione was wrapping the priceless dress around her figure. The bodice hugged her breasts and down her waist before flowing elegantly out. The wrap style of the dress created a long slit up her left leg that made Hermione feel ridiculously sexy. 

She stepped into the matching pair of heels that Sirius had left out for her before standing before the floor-length mirror at the back of the bathroom door. She smoothed her hands down the long length of the skirt. 

A knock sounded at the door.

“It’s open!” she called out as she twirled before the mirror. Perhaps they were going out to something tonight? She couldn’t recall Sirius or Remus mentioning an event that they wanted to go to. Why else would he give her such a dress?

Another knock came from the door. 

Hermione frowned. She turned to the bedroom door and opened it up. Sirius stood on the other side in an expensive suit, a bouquet of white peonies in his hand. His face lit up when he saw her. 

“You look stunning,” he breathed. 

Hermione blushed brightly. “Uh, thank you.” She took the bouquet of flowers he offered her. “What’s going on?”

A suave smile stretched across his lips that had her stomach flipping. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to pick up my beautiful date for the evening. And by evening, I mean until exactly seven-thirty when Remus brings Harry back from his parents’ place.” 

Hermione laughed. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Yes,” Sirius responded earnestly, “I did.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. “I should have done this months ago.” He nodded towards the rest of the apartment. “Come on.” He took her hand and led her through the dimly lit flat to the balcony. 

Magical lights floated in mason jars along where the balcony railing normally was. She wasn’t sure if he’d vanished it or turned it invisible, but either way, there was an undisrupted view of Diagon Alley below and the stars above. The floor had been cushioned with bedrolls and pillows. A little table was set up with a glass vase and two dinner plates.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Pancakes?” she asked, noting that their dinner was of the breakfast variety. 

Sirius grinned ruefully and took the bouquet as he helped her out of her heels. She pulled her legs under herself as she sat down before the little table. “Alright, so fun fact,” he said as he took the pillow right beside her. He crossed his legs and placed the bouquet in the waiting vase on the table, “I can bake really,  _ really _ well.”

Hermione was about to say “I know,” then thought better of it. She smiled and made a noise of curiosity. “Really?”

He winked. “Yup,” he replied, knowing it irked her when he and Harry didn’t use the proper ‘yes.’ “And it just so happens that pancakes fall under the category of baking.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Since when?”

“Since I could make them.”

Hermione smiled, her eyes twinkled with humour. “So, you made these?” She gestured to the pancakes.

He nodded. “Double chocolate chip and I’ve got fruit that you can put on top.” He gestured to the little bowls filled with cut-up fruits. “And there's syrup, of course.”

“Of course,” she replied, thoroughly amused. “This looks delicious, Sirius. Thank you.” She picked up her napkin roll, filled with utensils. They dug into their meal, playfully piling fruits and fixings on top. Hermione licked a bit of maple syrup from her thumb as she eyed her husband. “This is quite romantic of you. Is this usual?”

Sirius shrugged and took a sip of milk he’d poured for both of them. He’d taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. She eyed the tattoos dancing up and down his arms with a hot attraction in the pit of her belly. He was so beautiful. “I was more of a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy.”

Hermione snorted before dissolving into laughter. “Oh, I am well aware. I heard  _ all _ the stories before we got married.”

He had the good grace to look abashed. “Right, well, I did have one serious girlfriend. Marlene McKinnon.”

Hermione perked up at the familiar name. “Wasn’t she an original member of the Order?”

Sirius’ eyes widened. He swallowed and nodded. “We dated all the way through our last year of school. It was pretty serious. I’d do stuff like this sometimes.”

Hermione ate a piece of cut up strawberries and smiled. “I like it. I’m sure she did too.” Sirius went quiet as he continued to eat his pancakes. She knew that Marlene had died during the war. She and her entire family had been killed. “Why did you break up?” she asked gently.

Sirius’ brows drew together as he thought about it. “She just… we were too similar. Together, we had zero impulse control. She tended to goad me into being wilder and… more aggressive. I was a livewire with her. I got into more fights that year than I did all my school years combined.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “That doesn’t sound… healthy.”

“It wasn’t. Which was part of the reason we ended it. She was pretty resentful. She wanted to go travel the world together and get arrested on every continent.” He grinned, but it was more of a sad fondness rather than regret.

“Merlin, Sirius…” she whispered, unsure how else to respond. A woman like that would have been the exact opposite of what Sirius needed. 

He nodded, as if hearing her thoughts. “Marley was a free bird. She was… boundless. I don’t regret being with her, but…” He shrugged.

“But you don’t regret ending it either.”

“Exactly. A first relationship is… a whirlwind, to say the least.” His nostalgic smile fell away. “I’m sorry you never got to appreciate it.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. She saw the solemn look on his face and almost burst into laughter. “You’re so full of yourself,” she scoffed. Sirius blinked and shook his head as if she’d slapped him. She shot him a look. “The only thing you’ve been first of for me is a husband.”

Sirius’ mouth opened in shock. “I - really?” The way she huffed at him only seemed to reinforce his own disbelief. Every time Sirius looked at her, he was reminded of how young she was. Even in her dress and the way it showed off her figure. He couldn’t get the image of her tear stricken face out of his mind and the way she’d sobbed over her lost girlhood.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “My first boyfriend was while I was fifteen. He was older and we spent most of my time in Paris together unsupervised. I think it’s safe to say we did more than hold hands,” she snarked.

Sirius let out a startled laugh. “You naughty little kitten.”

Hermione’s smile widened. She closed her eyes and savoured the sound of that familiar name on his lips. “ _ Finally _ ,” she breathed. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to figure it out.”

Sirius’ eyes flickered across her face. “Oh?”

She leaned close. Her lips brushed his as she whispered, “Say it again.”

Heat coursed through Sirius’ entire body. He was already hard. His depression had faded with the help of his occlumency and in its place had come his libido. The sight and smell of Hermione around the apartment had been driving him a bit spare lately but  _ this _ was too much. “Kitten,” he breathed back, attempting to keep his cool. He didn’t want to act like an overeager schoolboy. But Merlin, he definitely felt like one.

Hermione’s eyes fell shut and she moaned. 

“Oh, fuck,” Sirius whispered. He grabbed her face and hotly pressed his lips against her own. Hermione rose up onto her knees. She pushed her chest against his as her arms wrapped around his neck. She was in his lap, grinding against him as she tangled her fingers in his hair and pressed her tongue into his mouth. 

Sirius curled his fingers around her hips. He pulled back enough so that he could speak. “Wait.” It took him a moment to realize what he said. He hated himself a bit for trying to stop her. Hermione, bless her, was undeterred. She pressed kisses along his jaw and to the place just below his ear that he loved. He growled under his breath. His fingers tightened their grip on her hips. “Wait, wait, wait.” 

Hermione let out a huff and pulled back. She pouted at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to push you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You really aren’t.” She moved in to kiss him again. Sirius savoured the feel of her soft lips on his and the way their magic sparked and flared between them before he pulled back again. Hermione sighed.

“I also don’t want you to think that this is all I want.” He raised his hand and pushed the curls out of her face. “You said you’ve heard the stories. I don’t want you to be one of those stories.”

Hermione smiled softly. “I want this,” she whispered. “I want to feel close to you again.” She punctuated her statement by rolling her hips and grinding against his prominent erection.

Sirius’ fingers tightened on her hips and he stilled her with a groan. “Sex -- and I can’t believe I’m saying this -- it’s not the only way to know a person.” It looked like it had physically pained him to say such a thing. Hermione tried not to laugh at the expression on his face. 

“But it is one way,” she argued. “One way that our marriage bond depends on. We have a physical bond, Sirius. It demands contact and  _ sex _ . I can feel the distance between us. It gets bigger every day. A part of me feels like I’ve lost you.”

“Haven’t you?” Sirius gently pushed her off of his lap and back onto the bedroll. The look on Hermione’s face could only be described as betrayed. “I’m not the same man you knew, Hermione. You’ve said so yourself. You need to stop picturing me like him.”

“You need to stop thinking that I’m comparing you to him,” she snapped. His eyebrows drew together as he frowned and Hermione sighed. “Look, I’ll admit that I was doing that at first. But I have stopped. Recently… the more I get to know  _ you _ , the less I look for him. Sirius, you’re you. You’re completely individual. I was married to him for a week. I’ve been married to  _ you _ for  _ months _ .”

“You knew him longer.”

She shrugged. “Barely. We rarely saw each other. Yes, I trusted him. I loved him,” she declared. Sirius’ eyes widened. He knew she meant ‘love’ not ‘in love,’ but it still hit him hard. “He was very dear to me and he always will be. But he’ll be dear to me for the things he did. You’re dear to me for the things you  _ do _ .” She rested her hand on his thigh as she leaned forward earnestly. “Like when you give Harry a bubble bath. Or when you and Remus invent a new game for him. When you give me a beautiful dress and make me pancakes and promise to make love to me under the stars.”

She pressed her forehead against his. “I’m not comparing you to anyone, Sirius. If I had the option, I’d choose you again.”

“That’s not saying much, considering my competition.”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she leaned back again. “Okay, fine. I’d choose you over any other wizard I’ve kissed.”

Sirius grinned. “Thank Merlin you never snogged Harry, otherwise I think I’d be out on my arse.” Hermione’s cheeks flamed red. Sirius laughed. “You didn’t?”

“It was a mistletoe kiss!” she protested.

“Was there tongue?” Sirius questioned.

“Sirius!” she exclaimed, scandalized.

“There was!” He burst into a full-bellied laugh. “Merlin’s beard. You help him wipe his arse now.”

Hermione groaned. She dropped her face into her hands. “Don’t remind me.” 

Sirius’ laughter finally faded. He smiled at her embarrassed, slightly harassed expression. “You’d really choose me over Harry?”

“In a heartbeat.” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “He uses way too much tongue.”

He nodded, unsurprised. “Like father like son.”

Hermione burst into laughter. “Oh, now that’s a story I want to hear.”

He hummed in agreement. His fingers touched the soft skin of her face as they pushed back into her curls. “Maybe later. I have a surprise for you.” He stood up and headed inside. Hermione gamely sat by the table and waited for him to return. He came back with a folded piece of parchment. It was a letter. “I wrote this,” he explained. “I wanted you to look it over before I sent it off.”

Hermione curiously took the letter and unfolded it. Her eyes flickered across the elegant script. She gasped. “Sirius…” It was a letter to Hogwarts for acceptance into NEWT level classes.

“I can’t think of a better way to use our leverage over Dumbledore. I wanted to just have you sit your NEWTs without a school, but there are restrictions for that and it would take years to meet them all. And international schools are just stupidly complicated. Hogwarts is the fastest way to go and I -”

“-I can’t go,” she gently interrupted. She set the letter aside.

Sirius’ brows furrowed. It was obvious he was annoyed by her immediate dismissal. “Why not?”

“Well, first off, there are  _ definitely  _ better ways to use your leverage against Dumbledore. But more importantly, I don’t trust him not to use this to his own advantage. I mean, how would I even take classes? Harry needs me here. You need me here. Would our marriage bond even allow long distance? You didn’t have access to our bond when you were in Azkaban. The Dementor’s suppressed so much of your magic that I barely even felt it.” Hermione wrinkled her nose as she thought about that. “That’s probably the only reason neither of us went mad, if I’m being honest.”

Sirius took her hands in his own. “You could take classes from home?”

She shook her head. “Only if Dumbledore approves and he never would. I’d rather hold onto this leverage for as long as possible.” Sirius’ expression fell and it broke Hermione’s heart to see his excitement fade away. She leaned forward as she said, “If we have this over his head, he won’t try to take Harry from us.”

“He can’t take Harry,” Sirius argued, “he’s legally ours.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think that will stop him? He let you rot in Azkaban, Sirius. You were  _ innocent _ and he knew it. He let Wormtail go free. He doesn’t care about us, about James or Lily, or anything!” She took a deep breath to calm her sudden anger. She shook her head again. “I don’t trust him and I won’t put a single aspect of my life in his hands. I’m sorry. This is such an amazing gesture and maybe one day I will get my NEWTs, but right now, we need to focus on our family. You, me, Harry, Remus, and your dad soon as well.”

Sirius’ lips quivered as he processed her argument. Finally, he sighed. “Alight. I get it. I don’t know if I totally agree with you, but I get it.” They could buy a cottage in Hogsmeade to live in during the school year and to help with the bond. Remus and he could care for Harry. He’d thought that September was far enough away that perhaps Harry would be okay with Hermione taking a few classes and there being some distance between them. But it seemed  _ Hermione _ wasn’t okay with that. “But you don’t have to worry about my dad, Hermione. We’ll have a nurse for him. He won’t be a bother for you.”

“He’s your dad, Sirius. Regardless of whatever sort of help you hire, we will live in the same house and we are a part of the same family and… he’s your Head of House, Sirius. Once he’s well enough, he’ll take that position on again and I really don’t want to be on his bad side. Nor do I want Harry on his bad side.”

“Dad loves me,” Sirius assured her. “He won’t turn either of you away because he knows it would ruin me. I need you.” He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I need the lot of you.”

Hermione smiled and raised her hands to his face. Her thumb brushed his full bottom lip.“We need you too, Sirius.”

Their lips met in a sweet, chaste kiss. Their magical bond burned hotter than it had since the day they’d renewed it in Azkaban. Hermione could feel the bright, electric tingles that kissed her skin everywhere he was touching. She pressed herself into his embrace and released a breathy gasp as the electric feeling sparked across her chest and stomach. Sirius’ hands fisted in the fabric of her dress. He bowed his head and rested his forehead against hers. His lashes fluttered as he fought his raging erection.

A moment of silence passed over them as they stared into one another’s eyes. “This really was the absolute sweetest thing in the world, Sirius,” Hermione whispered, unable to speak any louder. Her fingers were starting to shake with the pent up need to push him down and climb on top. “I loved it.”

“You deserved it,” he responded honestly, “every second. I’m sorry that the older me didn’t get to spoil you like this.”

She shook her head. “Let’s not talk about him.”

Sirius sighed and his hands released her. Hermione almost wept at the loss of their connection. She sat back on her allotted cushion and tried not to pout. She looked away and pretended not to notice while Sirius adjusted himself and his prominent erection. She’d had plans for that erection, she thought glumly. 

“Hermione…” Sirius started cautiously and she looked back at him, sitting on his cushion beside her once more. “Whether I like it or not, he’ll always be a part of our relationship -- our marriage. I don’t want to ignore it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “A week, Sirius. We were only married for a week. And in that time, all we did was have sex and eat food. You’re not… you’re not in any  _ shadow _ .” She gestured with her hand. It was ridiculous to assume there had been anything more to that relationship than there was. It was too soon for it to be anything greater than exactly what it was.

“He  _ saved  _ you,” Sirius insisted.

Hermione sighed softly. This was obviously bugging Sirius and likely for some time. She leaned forward. “And I saved  _ you _ .” Her hand rested on his knee and squeezed it gently. “This is where I am now. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not trying to find my way back. I’m here. I need you to be here too.”

Sirius nodded. He looked down at his hands in a moment of vulnerability that he so rarely displayed. “I’ve been better, haven’t I?”

“So much better,” she agreed. “You’ve been wonderful. House hunting and taking care of Harry and helping with the cleaning. It’s helped so much and I’m so grateful for it.” She eyed him before tentatively asking, “Do you feel better?”

He nodded. “Better than I have in a long time. This is… things are actually starting to come together. Dad’s gonna be out of hospital soon and then it’s all home free. Just… living life.” Hermione smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Things were far from over. She tried not to think about Voldemort, Harry’s connection to him, or the fact that he was due to rise again if time moved the same way it had before. No, things were not “home free,” no matter how much she wished they were.

“Have you thought about getting a job?” she asked to change the direction her mind was starting to head in. He made a face and she chuckled. “You’re going to get bored,” she sang teasingly.

Sirius huffed and laid back against the bed of blankets and pillows that covered the balcony floor. He raised his arm for Hermione as she immediately joined him. She pressed her body along his length. Her leg hooked around his and her head nestled against his shoulder. Their bond flickered between them like kindling about to catch fire. Hermione closed her eyes and savoured the heat of it. 

“I think I can hold out longer than you think,” Sirius whispered and Hermione wondered if he was talking about staying out of work or having sex. She understood his position. It made sense in a far off logical part of her mind that was almost always suppressed when Sirius’ cock was involved.

Hermione released a long sigh. “I guess we’ll see.”

“I guess we will, eh, kitten?” He kissed the top of her head and Hermione smiled into his shoulder. “Alright then, Little Miss. Genius. What are your thoughts on Aclam’s Theory of Undiscoverables?”

Hermione jerked back. She sat up on one elbow and shot her husband a look of incredulity. “I beg your pardon?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, I thought it was all hogwash too.” He raised an eyebrow at her silent astonishment. “At the trial, you claimed you were smarter than  _ Him _ . I tried to get you to go to school, but that’s a no go. I’m not at  _ His _ level, but I’m quite good about Transfiguration and Ancient Runes. I’ll try to keep you from getting bored as well.”

Hermione smiled brilliantly. “As long as I have books, I’m a happy witch.”

Sirius made a sound of interest. “I was looking at stocking our library we’re going to have. I’ll give you the catalogue tomorrow and you can pick whatever you fancy.” Her eyes lit with delight and Sirius grinned. “It goes through Gringotts, so they’ll cancel any orders on books we’ve already got. The Black library is fairly extensive.”

She laid back down and rested her head on his shoulder again, a massive smile on her face. “I’ve only seen what’s available at Grimmauld Place. I’d love to have better access.”

“I’ll have every book cleaned of dark curses for you, kitten.”

Hermione shivered in delight and Sirius honestly couldn’t tell if it was from the pet name or the promise of books. A companionable silence swept over them as they stared up at the stars. “You’re right, I shouldn’t put my entire life on hold.” Sirius turned his head to meet her brown eyes as she peered up at him. “But I still don’t trust Dumbledore not to take advantage. Maybe I’ll look into taking muggle classes though. I could finish up there and look into muggle uni. And really,” she added as she looked back up at the stars, “there are just so many more educational options in the muggle world. I could study the classics.” She gasped. “I can continue my German lessons! I had to stop in fourth year.”

Sirius wrapped both of his arms around his wife and kissed the top of her curly head. “Whatever you’d like, kitten. Anything you like.”

She smiled at his promise. “Thank you.”

\- END OF PART ONE -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: Jan 2021
> 
> A little romance for you lost souls 😉xx


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that Jessica Lang with white hair is my fan cast for Augusta Longbottom *however* she has the voice of Aunt Zelda from Netflix's Sabrina. Yes. Perfect.

# 

##  _ _

##  _ \- June 2, 1983 - _

“You can’t just leave me, Sirius,” Hermione hissed as she carried Harry up the long pebble drive to Longbottom Lodge.

“I’m not leaving. I’m just gonna pop on back to the house and set up the wards with Remus-”

“-That could take hours,” she complained. Harry shook the stuffed Prongs in his hand as he made a horse-like noise. Hermione leaned her head away from his playing. “I’ve only met Lady Longbottom once.”

Sirius grinned at Harry. “You’ll be fine,” he told her. He tickled Harry’s tummy and the toddler laughed. He was almost three years old and finally starting to look his age. He’d grown in leaps and bounds since Sirius had moved in with them and the Marauder was certain that the boy would grow up to be tall and strong -- just like his dad. “She seems scarier than she is.”

“She ran the DMLE,” Hermione deadpanned. “She’s just as scary as she actually is.” 

Sirius laughed. “Relax, kitten. She likes a smart witch and I’ve yet to meet anyone smarter.” 

Hermione’s cheeks turned pink at the praise. They’d spent the last few weeks with Hermione brushing up on her muggle classes before sitting down to take her GCSE Exam. They were now waiting for results. Sirius had been completely thrown by her level of knowledge during their study sessions. She’d had to repeatedly remind him that classes were different in her time and the tests were easier now than they would be in a few years. He didn’t believe her.

They stepped up the stone steps of the front porch and Sirius let himself into the massive wooden mansion. “Sirius,” Hermione hissed, horrified at her husband’s behaviour. He winked at her and nodded for her to follow him. Hermione sighed heavily as she did so. “You can’t just let yourself in,” she reprimanded him.

“Why not?” Sirius shrugged. “I always do.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Just because you do something all the time, doesn’t mean it’s right.” 

“Well, now you just sound like Minnie.” 

She stuck her nose in the air. “I take that as the highest of compliments.” 

Sirius grinned because he knew she would. He closed the massive door behind them and stepped further into the entrance foyer. Longbottom Lodge was grand like any pure-blood home. It was done up in heavy tones of wood matched with warm colours. The entrance was two floors high and had a hanging chandelier that looked big enough to kill Hermione’s entire year group from Hogwarts if it ever fell.

Hermione walked towards a floor to ceiling painting hung on the wall that depicted a waterfall and animals. 

“Prongs!” Harry exclaimed as he pointed to a deer in the painting. He held up his plushie and waved it at the painting as he neighed. Hermione laughed. 

“Deers don’t neigh,” a strict voice scolded. Hermione spun around with Harry in her arms, eyes wide. Lady Longbottom came down the last few steps of the grand staircase, tall and regal as ever. She was an austere woman with heavily lined features and long silver hair that had been pulled back into a tight bun. She didn’t share any of Neville’s sweet friendliness and honestly, Hermione wondered where her classmate had ever learnt it from. 

“Auggie!” Sirius greeted. He took the older woman’s hand as she descended the stairs and kissed the back of it. “You look as beautiful as ever.”

Augusta scowled at Sirius. “I ought to hex you, Sirius Black. It’s been months since you’ve been released and I haven’t gotten a single owl until now?”

Sirius winced. “Sorry…”

She raised an eyebrow. “I heard about it from the paper.”

“Where was Oliver?”

Augusta waved her hand. “Business, he’s just got back a few weeks ago. That’s hardly the point.” She poked his chest. “I expect whiskey. A lot of it. The muggle kind I like too.”

Sirius smiled. “I’ve got to dash off in a bit to help Remus put up the wards on our new house and I’ll grab you several bottles while I’m out.”

She sniffed in acceptance before turning to Hermione and Harry who were staring at Sirius and the Lady Longbottom with equally wide eyes. “Introduce me,” she ordered Sirius.

Sirius placed a hand on Augusta’s back and guided her forward to his wife and godson. “Auggie, this is my wife, Hermione Black. And you remember my godson, Harry?”

Hermione tried to smile but her nervous energy shone through. “It’s a pleasure, Lady Longbottom.”

Augusta studied Hermione with piercing blue eyes. She pursed her lips as she turned back to Sirius. Her sliver eyebrows raised high on her head as she asked in a voice laced with a mischievous undertone, “Where was my wedding invite?”

Sirius snorted. “Don’t be mean. Where’s Nev?”

Augusta gestured to the sitting room behind them. “Colouring, come along. I want to hear all about your new house. You didn’t choose to live on ancestral land?” She tucked her hand into the crook of Sirius’ arm and the wizard led her into the sitting-room she’d indicated.

Hermione followed them, feeling rather out of the loop. She wondered if Sirius’ attachment to older witches was a product of his terrible relationship with his mother. Minerva McGonagall doted on Sirius like he was her own and now Augusta Longbottom clearly had a soft spot for him as well. She’d be concerned if she wasn’t so amused by it all.

“The Black properties all have heavy blood purity curses embedded into the wards. It’d be faster to just ward a new property rather than fix an old one,” Sirius was saying as they entered the sitting room.

It was a massive room, easily twice the size of their flat. There was a grand fireplace big enough that you didn’t need to duck to step inside situated at the far end of the room and a bay window the size of a bed that faced the front of the house. In the centre of the room was a long leather couch on a Persian rug. A play table had been set up and a little boy was colouring at it alone. 

Hermione couldn’t help but smile at the sight of a toddler version of Neville Longbottom. He was the sweetest thing with chubby cheeks and brown eyes. He looked up at the new arrivals in the room with wide eyes as he froze all over. 

“Hello, Nev,” Sirius greeted kindly. “Remember me?” Neville shook his head and Sirius grinned. “That’s alright. You were pretty small, even smaller than now. I’m Sirius and this,” Sirius turned and held out his hand for Hermione, “is my wife, Hermione. Say hello, kitten.”

Hermione knelt down beside Sirius and Neville. She placed Harry on his feet who stared at Neville in open curiosity. “Hello, Neville. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Neville’s eyes darted over to his grandmother and back again. “Hi,” he finally said. 

“This is Harry. Harry this is Neville. He’s your godbrother, did you know that?” Harry shook his head and Neville didn’t respond at all. “Do you want to play together?” Harry turned towards Hermione and buried his face in her neck rather than answer. She rubbed his back. “I’d like to colour with you, Neville. If that’s alright? Perhaps Harry will join us later.”

Neville’s eyes once again darted towards his grandmother before nodding once. Hermione sat down at the play table with him and let Harry sit in her lap. Sirius joined Augusta by two armchairs a short distance away.

“That’s very pretty, Neville,” Hermione complimented of his drawing consisting of two big blobs in various colours of red and blue.

“Thank you,” he responded in a quiet baby voice.

Hermione smiled at him. She leaned to the side so she could look at Harry. “What’re we going to colour? A house?” Harry shook his head. “A puppy?” Another shake. “Flowers?” Harry nodded and Hermione picked up a red crayon. “This colour?” Harry shook his head. He picked up a pink crayon and handed it to her. “You’re right, that’d make a very pretty flower.” 

Hermione pulled a blank parchment towards her and began colouring, alternating with colours whenever Harry or Neville gave her a new one. Harry soon started to join her before eventually crawling out of her lap to start his own picture. Hermione smiled in triumph at the sight of the two godbrothers colouring side by side. It was a start.

A little while later, Sirius joined her and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m heading out.” Hermione shot him a pleading look. “Don’t overthink it. I wouldn’t leave you with anyone I didn’t trust with my life,” he assured her calmly. “Be warned though, she might know about the time travel.” He made a face as he said it, which meant Augusta definitely knew.

“You told her?” she hissed. Harry looked over and she wiped the annoyance off her face. “Sirius…”

He raised his hands in self-defence. “I didn’t do it, Marauder’s honour.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not cute.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. His scent surrounded her and she couldn’t help it as her lashes fluttered shut. Their bond burned warmly beneath her skin, ready and waiting to surge into a raging fire. Sirius pulled back just as Hermione moved to deepen the kiss. Her eyes blinked open in shock. “But I am beautiful,” he declared and stood up. “See you in a bit bud, be good for your mum.” He winked at his wife who was red-faced and more than a little flustered.

Harry waved his hand, a bright smile spread across his face. “Bye-bye, Paddy!” 

“I’ll walk you out,” Augusta declared and joined Sirius. 

Hermione turned back to the boys and found both of them staring at her. Her face burned hotter. She swallowed down both the lust and embarrassment her husband had caused her in equal measure. What a prat, she thought. She was going to make him pay for that little tease. 

“Mrs. Black,” Augusta called when she returned. She sat back in her plush armchair and crossed her legs. Her hand gestured to the tea tray that had appeared on the table between her and the other armchair, “join me.”

Hermione took a deep breath. She kissed Harry’s cheek before standing and joining the formidable woman. Hermione sat at the edge of her seat with her hands in her lap. She felt like a first year sitting before Professor McGonagall and certain she’d done something wrong but not a clue as to what it could have been. 

“You’re fantastic with him,” Augusta declared as she waved her wand and poured the tea, “with the both of them, in fact, Mrs. Black.”

Hermione preened under the praise. “Thank you and uhm… I prefer Hermione, actually.”

She nodded once. “Do you have experience with children?” A silver brow rose in time with the question.

“Uhm… not so much, no. I’ve babysat a few children, but they were all older than Harry and Neville.” She used to take care of the young boy and girl that lived next door to her and her over the summer. They were quiet kids, only a few years younger than herself, really. They hadn’t needed much taking care of. “It wasn’t anything like this. This is… being a full-time parent isn’t the same.”

Augusta snorted in agreement as she poured a healthy portion of gin into her delicate teacup. “Not even a little bit.” She raised the bottle of gin to Hermione in silent question.

Hermione’s face burned as she quickly shook her head. “I don’t really drink.”

Augusta’s eyes narrowed. “Are you pregnant?” 

“No!” She rapidly shook her head. “Not at all.”

Augusta sniffed, “Then you ought to drink now,” she poured a portion of gin into Hermione’s teacup. “While you can,” she intoned in a deep voice. Hermione took a small sip of her tea and made a face. Augusta chuckled under her breath. 

“It’s a hard job,” Lady Longbottom agreed, getting back to the topic of conversation, “but Sirius says Harry’s enamoured with you. So, you must be doing something right.” Her voice was dry and if it were anyone else, Hermione would have been offended by the tone of voice. But Hermione knew that was the way Augusta always spoke. They’d met briefly in Hermione’s time and after a small upset, Neville had assured her that was simply the way of the older witch. 

“I’m just making it up as I go, honestly,” Hermione admitted. Taking care of Harry was overwhelming. The first few weeks had been the hardest and Hermione looked back on them with wonder at her success. 

“We all are,” Augusta confided. “No parent has it all figured out.”

Hermione nodded as she watched Harry take the crayon that Neville offered him. “I’m starting to see that.”

“How is he?” Lady Longbottom studied Hermione over her teacup. 

The younger witch frowned. The tone of Augusta’s voice had changed and Hermione guessed they were no longer talking about Harry. “Sirius?” she clarified. Lady Longbottom nodded sharply. “Good. It’s - he’s…” Hermione pursed her lips. “Sirius said you knew? About me?”

Augusta raised a silver brow in interest. “I do. My husband is the Head of the Department of Mysteries. I was sworn into the Circle of Knowledge for the DoM when I was the Head Auror back in the ‘40s and I still retain the vow. Oliver was away with his second in command on international business when you arrived. I heard you were treated fairly poorly.”

Hermione scowled at the memory. “They wouldn’t even give me trousers or knickers.” Her cheeks burned.

Augusta’s eyes darkened. “I assure you, they were all reprimanded for their behaviour.” Hermione clenched her jaw. They ought to be fired. “Was Sirius like this in the future? He’s different than when he went in, but not as bad as most who suffer a stint in Azkaban.”

“He was worse there, I think,” she admitted. “It was… it was pretty bad at the start -- this time around, I mean,” she clarified. “It started to get better when Professor McGonagall came for a visit. Once Remus moved in though, it was like a switch was flipped. He started using his occlumency to block out the lingering effects of the dementors.” She sipped her tea and made a face again before setting it down. She thought over how far Sirius had come since his initial release from Azkaban. “He’s been so much better since then.”

Augusta hummed as she thought that over.

“I…” Hermione paused and glanced down at her abandoned tea. “Do you know much about Sirius’ mother? I know he hates her and for good reason, but… I feel like there’s more he’s not telling me?” Perhaps it was underhanded of her to ask someone else behind Sirius’ back, but talking about his mother and the upcoming trial always upset him. 

Augusta took a swig of her tea and gin before she set her teacup down. She crossed her legs as she leaned into the arm of her chair. “It’s not really my place,” Lady Longbottom began in her deep voice, “but I doubt he’d ever speak about it unless pressed.” Hermione almost told her to forget she asked, but her desire to know stopped her. She waited until Augusta spoke again. “Walburga grew up in a terribly dark, abusive home. Rumour has it she was conceived using black magic. Right from the start, she was corrupted. A cruel child and a crueller woman.”

Hermione nodded, thinking of the angry, violent portrait in Grimmauld Place. The woman’s fury and disgust with her had been so overt, Hermione would likely never forget it. Meeting the woman in person after being attacked by Professor Snape had been absolutely traumatizing. She was lucky that Walburga had been more shocked than anything, otherwise, she likely would have been cursed to oblivion.

“She was no better with her children,” Augusta continued with a disapproving tilt to her sharp chin. “She abused those boys despite how much I’m sure it hurt their family magic.”

Hermione’s brows furrowed. “Boys?”

She nodded. “Sirius and his younger brother, Regulus.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. She leaned in closer. “Sirius has a brother?” How had she not known this before? Where was he in the future? Where was he in the present? 

Augusta cleared her throat. “He did. Regulus Black went missing shortly after he graduated.” A short gasp escaped Hermione. “It’s rumoured that he’s dead, but the Black family has never officially released any information about it.”

Hermione blinked widely. “I had no idea.”

“I’m not surprised.” She gestured with her hand as she continued. “Sirius and Regulus didn’t get along well. Their mother didn’t exactly foster a strong brotherly affection between the two and it was only worsened when Regulus was chosen to be the Black Heir over his elder brother.” Augusta paused and pursed her lips. Finally, she said, “Sirius has never been explicit with me about Walburga, Minerva knows more. But from what I know, Sirius had a very difficult childhood.”

Hermione’s heart ached for her husband. He’d never said a word about it. But it suddenly made a lot of sense to her why Sirius was so resistant to speak at his mother’s trial, regardless of if she’d done so for him. Hermione would never ask Harry to speak in defence of the Dursley’s and she felt rather rotten for having pushed Sirius to do so for Walburga.

“What about Orion?” Hermione asked. “Where was he in all this? Why didn’t he protect them?” Sirius clearly loved his father, but how could one love someone who would let this happen to their own children?

Augusta shook her head. “He grew ill when they were still boys. He was hospitalized before Sirius turned fifteen. I’m not sure how involved he would have been able to be in the rearing of his children.”

Hermione’s nose wrinkled as she looked away. What a horrible childhood. What a horrible life. No wonder the Sirius from her time had such a difficult time healing after Azkaban. “He’s got a much stronger support system this time around,” Hermione thought aloud. “In my - in the future, Sirius escaped prison rather than being released.”

Augusta shook her head. “It’s awful what’s happened. I never believed it. I tried to appeal it, but I see now that Dumbledore had a hand in making sure that never happened.” 

Hermione didn’t say anything to that. She didn’t trust Dumbledore at all, but it also wasn’t an opinion she’d heard from Lady Longbottom in the future. Disliking Albus Dumbledore wasn’t something someone tended to broadcast. 

“Sirius never had a real trial,” Lady Longbottom continued in a short tirade, “and so there was never anything to actually appeal.” She huffed -- clearly annoyed with the manipulations of the headmaster -- and picked her teacup up for another swig of her drink. “Albus eventually told me that the records were sealed. I wasn’t able to do anything after that.”

Hermione nodded. New evidence needed to be brought forward. Hermione had given Wormtail to Kingsley and that had gotten the ball rolling. Once it was revealed that he’d never had a proper trial, motions were immediately put in place to rectify that.

Augusta sighed and shook her head. “But there are more pressing things to speak about.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“Word about you is spreading,” Augusta confided in a low voice. She set her teacup back down and leaned forward once more. “Since Sirius’ trial, people have been looking into your story. There isn’t much to back it up, obviously. But people have noticed. Rumours are spreading that you’re an imposter or some other rubbish.” She shook her head and pursed her lips at what she clearly thought was everyone else’s idiocy.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she considered that. They stayed out of the public eye as much as possible. Sirius and Harry were both famous figures and Hermione hated exposing them to the nosiness of the Wizarding World. “You think people will figure out I’m from the future?” It sounded so far fetched. She doubted she’d have ever believed it of someone in her own time. The thought that anyone would suspect her of something so outlandish was rather… ridiculous.

“I’m not the only one who’s been sworn into the Circle of Truth,” Augusta warned.

Hermione slowly set her teacup down. “What is that, exactly?”

Lady Longbottom waved her hand. “A body of people in the ministry that are not Unspeakables but are able to both be involved in their work and access their files. Mostly, it’s just high ranking officials that have jobs that overlap with areas of the DoM. As Head Auror, I would be called in to investigate their work a time or two.” She raised an eyebrow. “Unspeakables tend to break the rules.”

“But the people in the Circle of Truth can’t reveal this information, can they?”

The older witch shrugged, amused by Hermione’s naivete. “There are ways around every rule.” That was certainly true. The rules around her own appearance in the past were lacking, at best. The fact so many people in her little circle knew about the real circumstances surrounding her sudden appearance was already more than she’d ever thought smart. Every time she turned around, someone new was coming out of the woodworks that knew about her time travel. 

“Who knows the truth?” she asked worriedly. 

“It’s hard to tell. But I’m certain there are more than a few Death Eaters that are included in it that aren’t in Azkaban. It’d be prudent for you to learn some defense. Do you know any occlumency?”

Hermione made a face. “I can duel fairly well. But I tried to pick occlumency up last year. I have the basics of it down, but I’m afraid I’m not very skilled at it.”

Augusta pursed her lips. “I thought you were supposed to be a genius?” 

Hermione fidgeted with the fabric of her skirt. “That’s sort of the problem. I don’t forget things easily. I have so many memories and pieces of information swirling about that it’s… it’s rather chaotic. I’m a Gryffindor for a reason,” she said with a shrug. “We’re not known for order and reason.” 

Hermione’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and information. It was almost impossible for her to guard her mind against intruding magic when she was constantly absorbing information. Her mind, it turned out, was in a constant state of openness that stemmed from her open curiosity and desire to learn.

Lady Longbottom snorted. “An understatement. Well, we have a necklace in our vaults that is used to protect the mind from occlumency. It’s easily thwarted with spells or charms, but while it’s worn, it teaches the mind basic occlumency. I’m sure the Blacks have one as well. I’ll mention to Sirius to get one for you.”

“Thank you.” She fiddled with her teacup as she thought over Augusta’s warning. Death Eaters knowing she was from the future was certainly a problem. They didn’t know when or how, but the closer they got to Voldemort’s second rise, the more dangerous it would become. They didn’t yet realize just how much she knew about them and what was to come. “I should brush up on my duelling as well. I think the most serious spell I’ve cast in the past four months was a deep scrub on the tub.”

Augusta chortled. “I suppose you haven’t got much of a base either. Hogwarts has that terrible ‘curse’ that Albus likes to cry about.” At Hermione’s confused expression, Augusta explained, saying, “It’s a lie. There’s no curse. Albus pretends there is and cycles through as many teachers as he can. The unstable teaching situation causes disruption in the lesson consistency and, in effect, you have a hundred students who know little to no defence each year.”

Hermione shook her head, aghast. “Why would he want that?” 

“Because sheep are easier to control than wolves,” Augusta replied silkily. 

A chill ran down Hermione’s spine. That was a horrifying thought. She never really imagined the headmaster as some sort of masterminding dark lord, but her current interactions with him certainly had her on edge. She was more worried about him getting his hands on Harry than Voldemort. At least she knew Voldemort would stay dead until 1995. “I - I was taught to duel properly by Harry in our fifth year. He was exceptional at it.”

Augusta cast Hermione a look. “He was your friend? Harry?”

Hermione nodded. “Harry is -- was -- my best friend. I’m only from about a decade and a half into the future.”

Augusta raised an eyebrow. “And you married his godfather?”

Hermione made a face and shrugged. “Things got complicated.” It was the understatement of the century.

The elder witch snorted out a laugh and the tension left her body. She raised a hand to her face as she chuckled uncontrollably. Hermione smiled at the woman’s reaction. 

“Nana?” Neville questioned. Harry watched the older woman with his head cocked to the side.

Augusta waved her hand at her grandson as she got herself under control. “I’m fine, Neville. Go back to your playing.” 

A companionable silence settled over them as they watched the toddlers turn back to their drawings. The two boys spoke quietly together as they combined their numerous drawings in some sort of pattern. Harry was colouring something under Neville’s instruction, handing him different colours and pointing to sections of the parchment. Hermione smiled at the sight of them getting along. 

“How complicated?” Hermione turned her head back to the elder witch at the question. Augusta had calmed considerably in the silence that passed. A serious expression had fallen over her face as she stared at Hermione. “I’m not stupid, darling. His body wasn’t found on Halloween.” Augusta raised an eyebrow. “No body, no proof. He’s out there, I know he is. I just want to know if he’s planning on coming back any time soon.”

Hermione clenched her jaw as she considered answering that. She and Sirius hadn’t spoken about it again. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about it. Hermione licked her lips as she weighed the pros and cons of trusting Augusta. She released a deep breath and said, “I’ve already made moves that will likely forestall his return. But I mean… there’s a lot and I’ve… got my hands full.”

Lady Longbottom nodded wisely. “You need more hands.”

Hermione made a face. “I don’t trust the Order or Dumbledore.” She knew members of the Order could be trusted to an extent, but their loyalty to Dumbledore meant she couldn’t go to them anymore. Minerva McGonagall was the only Order member that wasn’t a threat in her mind -- besides Sirius and Remus, but that went without saying. But as it was right now, the Order of the Phoenix was disbanded and not something she needed to worry about.

“Good. Neither do I.” They shared a grin. “I could gather some allies for us. Ones who aren’t fooled by Albus’ schemes.” Hermione’s lips quivered at the word ‘us.’ The single word lifted a considerable weight from her shoulders. “We’d need to act quickly.”

“To do what, exactly?”

Augusta raised an eyebrow. “To use your future knowledge for our benefit. The longer we wait, the greater our timeline changes. We need to act while what you remember is still a likely course of action. Before the game is changed under us and we’re in as much trouble as we would have been before.”

Hermione stared at the older witch apprehensively. “Bad things happen to wizards who meddle with time.”

Augusta Longbottom shot the younger witch a nefarious smirk. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re witches, isn’t it?” Hermione raised her eyebrows at that statement and Augusta rolled her eyes. “You’re not the first witch to have an accident in time, darling.” She raised her silver brow. “At least you ended up around familiar faces.”

Hermione shot forward in her seat. “What? You’re from the future?”

Augusta smiled when Hermione caught the hint and nodded. “Further than you, in fact. I doubt the world will be anything like what it was in my -- past.” Hermione’s mouth dropped open as she stared at Lady Longbottom in shock. Augusta leaned forward and nudged Hermione’s chin to close her mouth. “It happens.” She tipped her head. “Time adjusts and we move on. A very wise witch once told me, ‘the lot in life we are given isn’t always fair, but it’s made easier by those we love.’”

Hermione smiled. “I like that. Was she your friend?”

“The very best friend I’ve ever had,” Augusta responded with feeling. She turned her head to watch the boys. “We’ll need to find a way to meet without arousing suspicion.”

Hermione nodded. “Just the two of us will be easy. Our families seeing a lot of each other isn’t unusual. Harry and Neville are godbrothers, after all.”

Augusta made a noise of agreement. “But it won’t just be the two of us and I have several names in mind. There will be others on that list that it would be… unusual to see outside of certain social events. Meeting in secret will only go so far before people start to notice.” She raised her eyebrows at Hermione. They didn’t want their group to be well known like the Order of the Phoenix. Everyone knew what it was and what it stood for. It wouldn’t serve them to do the same.

The curly-haired witch nodded slowly as she thought that over. “We need a reason that includes various people but is also exclusive so others can’t just join up.” Augusta nodded as she poured herself another teacup of mostly gin. Hermione pursed her lips as she turned the problem over in her mind. “What about a charity?”

Augusta quirked a silver brow at her. “A charity?”

Hermione nodded and shrugged. “Or some other type of group that’s working towards a change of some sort. I wouldn’t mind forming a group to fight against blood prejudice in Britain.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Merlin knows we need it. Would that be okay?”

Augusta’s lips quirked and her brows drew together in amusement. “You might get some push back from a few members I’d like to include. They’re not purists, per se, but many profit from appearing to be so.”

Hermione scowled. “Those people are just as much to blame for the terrible ways that muggle-borns are treated in Britain. If we’re going to have a fake group, it’ll have to actually do something. I’d rather make a positive change, if at all possible.”

Augusta looked more amused than anything else. “A charity it is. We fight for muggle-borns and the better inclusion of them into our world. Orion will love that.”

Hermione’s head whipped around. “You’ll invite Sirius’ father?”

“He’ll be living with you, won’t he?” Hermione nodded. “He’ll figure it all out eventually. It’s better to just include him from the start.” 

Hermione stared down into her lap, not sure if she totally agreed with that. No matter how open-minded Sirius claimed his father to be, Hermione still had reservations. Augusta’s sarcasm just now had not helped ease her anxiety. 

“He wasn’t a supporter of You-Know-Who,” Lady Longbottom continued, “and depending on if the Potters went through with the magical adoption, Harry might even be a Black. So, it’s best if we let him be our friend rather than another enemy.”

Hermione’s head snapped up. “Magical adoption?” She hadn’t heard anything about that.

Augusta took a long sip of tea before answering. “If a magical house hasn’t provided an heir, they will perform a blood adoption. If that isn’t possible, they can magically adopt a child. A magical adoption allows the child to be accepted into the family magic. They’ll eventually take on responsibilities for that family as well as any other magical house they may be an heir to. The legacy of the family magic would continue on through that child, even though they aren’t related. 

“It’s not the same as the blood adoption -- the preferred method for pure-bloods -- in which a child would also change physically and be a full member of the magical house. That’s the more common form of adoption. In the case of the magical adoption, the child is a carrier for the family magic. One of their children will be born with the Black magic, for example, and be raised to take on the responsibility as Head of House.”

“But they, themself, aren’t the Head of House?” Hermione clarified.

Augusta nodded and waved her hand. “It’s a way to forestall the dying out of family magic. They can manage the estate so it doesn’t suffer, but for the most part, they’re just a stand-in.”

Hermione nodded as she absorbed this information. “And Sirius was going to magically adopt Harry?” she guessed.

“It was mentioned during the war,” Augusta recalled. “Sirius didn’t have any children and there were no other Black males left since his father was hospitalized and Regulus was presumed dead. It was a smart choice to make, but I don’t know if he went through with it.”

Hermione frowned. “Neither do I. If he did?”

“Harry would technically be a member of Black House and Orion is the family’s Head of House. He’s probably going to take an interest to keep Harry safe since he is the heir to the Black family magic.” Augusta raised an eyebrow as she took another sip of tea. “Well, after Sirius that is and only for now. I suspect he’ll put in an order or two about that.” Her other brow rose to meet the first as she looked pointedly at the younger witch. Hermione stared back uncomprehendingly. “Any boy you and Sirius have will automatically be Sirius’ heir.”

Hermione frowned. “Why? Because Harry was magically adopted instead of a blood adoption? Well, I guess… a magical adoption only facilitates the continuation of magic, you said. Harry could never be the Head of Black House. Orion would rather have a proper heir, I suppose?” Augusta nodded. Hermione made a face. “We don’t need to have one soon, surely?”

Augusta leaned onto the arm of her seat. “It’s a general rule of the Sacred Twenty-Eight to have children earlier on. There’s a lot of magical factors involved in the conception of a child. The longer a couple waits, the more rumours that spread about infertility, a chance of a squib, and a lack of magical compatibility in the couple -- which shows a lack of magical understanding on the part of two Houses that created the match. 

“Most pure-bloods marry right out of Hogwarts, a carryon from centuries of tradition. But nowadays, it’s mostly continued to allow pure-bloods more time to conceive a child. Families have been having a harder time of it every generation. Not that anyone is willing to admit that.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose at this bit of information. “What happens if they don’t provide an heir? Witches or wizards can be sterile.”

“Blood adoption counts as providing an heir. But if a natural conception can occur, it’s much more preferred. Anything else is basically an admission that your magic is neither compatible enough or strong enough to produce an heir for your family. It’s a stigma that most pure-bloods -- Orion included -- like to avoid.”

Hermione made a face. This was not a problem she wanted to deal with right now. “He hasn’t even turned twenty-four yet. We have plenty of time, don’t we?”

Augusta raised her eyebrows. “A baby can take a while to conceive. You’re better off since you’re not both pure-bloods, but it could still be some time. Then it takes almost a year to cook and once it pops out it might not even be a boy.”

“And that matters?” Surely there were pure-blood families without male children. She immediately thought of Pansy Parkinson and the Greengrass sisters. They didn’t have male siblings, did they?

Augusta shrugged. “For most families, it’s not a problem. But most families also have cousins and siblings to fall back on for a male heir,” she explained. “The Blacks have lost many family members in recent years. It’s just Sirius and his father now. The next closest Black male would be Draco Malfoy and Orion would never allow his legacy to fall into a Mafloy’s hands.” 

Lady Longbottom pursed her lips as she thought the situation over. “I suppose the fact you’re caring for Harry, who is a young magical heir himself, is a factor to consider. You’ll get a lot of sympathy for it and it wouldn’t be seen as odd that you’ve decided to wait on providing an heir for Black House.” Hermione almost breathed a sigh of relief when Augusta said, “But that brief window of time is closing rather rapidly.”

Hermione slouched back in her seat. “So, Sirius’ dad will expect us to start trying for a baby… eventually.” 

Augusta smirked at the younger witch’s obvious reluctance. “Sooner rather than later.” 

Hermione groaned. They weren’t even having sex yet.

Lady Longbottom chuckled. “Oh, darling, I haven’t even started on all the bullshit Orion will expect of you to take care of as the only female in the family.” 

Hermione let out a huff. “I’m too scared to ask, honestly.” 

“Tea, social gatherings, parties…” Augusta shrugged. “Then there’s managing the house-elves to maintain a clean and orderly house, of course.” Hermione scowled and Augusta smirked again. “You poor thing. I’ll make sure you don’t drown,” she promised sarcastically as she tapped Hermione’s arm.

Hermione picked up one of the biscuits on the cake stand and munched on it moodily. “Sirius never mentioned any of this. He wouldn’t let his father ask this of me, would he?” Augusta raised an eyebrow, silently giving her answer. Hermione leaned forward defensively. “Sirius hates pure-bloods and their politics. He lives in defiance of them.”

Augusta snorted. “I suppose that was once true. I always wondered if it was what caused the Blacks to choose Regulus as their heir or if it was a result of that event. It happened when the boys were still quite young, before Hogwarts even. It caused quite the scandal and for a short time, people whispered that Sirius must be a squib.”

“Sirius is incredibly magically talented,” Hermione objected.

“Yes, he is. He’s also a pure-blood, whether he likes it or not. And certainly, more Slytherin than he was willing to admit as a child. He uses his defiance of the rules to say things others normally wouldn’t and to put others at ease -- enabling him to enter into conversations that other pure-bloods wouldn’t be accepted into. In truth, he’s one of the most manipulative men I’ve ever met.” 

Hermione frowned at that and Augusta tipped her head forward as she raised her eyebrows. “You put Sirius Black in a room full of pure-bloods and he will command it. He will move through it effortlessly, it’s the most remarkable thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Hermione glared across the room. She felt her hackles rising. She wanted to defend Sirius. That wasn’t him. He wasn’t anything like that. But she really couldn’t. She’d never seen Sirius in a situation like that, but she could attest to the fact that he could command any room he walked into. He had a charismatic power about him that Hermione had always found nothing short of magical. And he certainly could be manipulative. His blackmail over Dumbledore was a prime example of that. Hermione was rather put out to note there was still quite a bit she didn’t know about her husband.

Her need for a response was cut off when the object of their conversation arrived. “Don’t worry, ladies. Your favourite man is back.”

Augusta looked surprised. “You brought my husband with you?”

Sirius raised a hand to his heart as he walked further into the room. “You wound me, Auggie.”

“If I had a heart, I’d care.” She raised a stern brow. “Did you bring whiskey?”

“A whole case of it is by the door.”

Augusta smirked. She waved him towards the children. “Go on, now. Let us ladies have our tea.”

Sirius turned to Hermione. “You turn every woman I introduce you to against me,” he accused.

Hermione shrugged. “If I had a heart, I’d care.” Augusta burst into laughter and Hermione chuckled at the older woman’s mirth. Sirius smiled at the older witch’s reaction. “Oh!” Hermione leaned forward excitedly. “Good news. Lady Longbottom and I are going to start a revolution against blood purity.” 

Augusta smiled viciously and Sirius swallowed. He shook his head. “Oh, you two are never having tea again,” he declared. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: Jan 2021
> 
> Happy Hanukkah to all my Jewish readers and Happy Holidays to everyone else! Some big plot points coming in here. Hope you're ready!
> 
> Thanks for reading and stay safe! xx


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter made me change the ratings from M to E -- I'm not even joking.

##  _ _

##  _ \- June 6, 1983 - _

“Harry, look at this one.” Hermione picked Harry up and set her on her hip. She pointed to the moving picture of James and Lily dancing happily that was hung on his bedroom wall in the new house. “It’s your mummy and daddy.” 

Harry’s brows furrowed as he leaned his head against her shoulder. It wasn’t the first picture he’d seen of them. She’d taken to showing Harry the pictures she’d collected from Professor McGonagall so far. They were still asking others for anything they had and their little photo album was growing. But this was the first of the set that they’d framed and put up around the house. There was a photo of one of his parents in every room.

Harry enjoyed the pictures, but Hermione thought that might stem from his fascination with magical photos more than the people themselves. He didn’t know who the people in the photos were and he often didn’t say anything at all when she referred to them as his parents. 

“They can’t be here anymore, so Sirius and I are here to love you in their stead.” She ran her fingers through his messy black hair and kissed his forehead. “They loved you more than anything in the world.”

Harry reached his hand out and touched the picture. 

“Do you like it?” Harry nodded before yawning. “And I think that’s our cue for bedtime. Let’s get you tucked in while we wait on Paddy to come and say goodnight.”

Hermione headed over to the centre of the white bedroom. A double bed had been set up in his new bedroom with a colourful puzzle piece designed bedspread. Above the bed and facing the opposite direction was a twin bed with a set of stairs set into the wooden construction. Hermione had immediately picked it out when she and Sirius had spotted it at the muggle furniture store. She figured Neville and Harry would be in a tizzy over it when they eventually had a sleepover here.

The room was decorated in wizarding toys and a box full of so many plushies that Harry had simply stared at it in shock. Regardless of whatever toy was put before him, it was always Prongs that was clutched in his little fist. 

Hermione tucked Harry under his colourful covers. She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Alright, love?”

Harry widened his arms. “Is big,” he told her, still not used to his new bedroom. They’d only moved in a few days ago and he’d spent each night either flat out refusing to sleep there alone or immediately crawling into bed with Hermione and Sirius.

She laughed. “It is big,” she agreed. “But that just means you’ve got lots of space to play. Did you have fun today?” She pushed a stray lock of hair out of his face.

He smiled sweetly and nodded his head. “Moony made me berries.”

Hermione smiled indulgently. “Yes, Moony got you a berry bush. But we do not eat all the plants outside, do we?” He shook his head. “Good boy.” 

She smoothed the blankets over his chest, reluctant to leave him alone for the night. Sirius would be in once he was through with his shower. He and Remus had been out for the full moon the night before. They’d spent the day at Remus’ parents’ cottage to heal themselves before coming home -- less they scare Harry with their injuries. They’d only arrived a few hours ago.

“Can mummy stay?” He turned his big green eyes on her and Hermione’s heart clenched in her chest. He knew exactly how to bend her to his will. 

“Oh, sweetie.” She cupped his face and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You know mummy is going to be right next door with Padfoot.” She pointed to the wall behind his bed where the master bedroom was located. “I’m right there if you need me.”

He pouted at her.

An idea came to her and she picked up his toy Prongs. She drew her wand and waved it over the stuffed animal. The toy glowed and she cast another spell. She pushed it up to his face. “Give it a sniff,” she told him. “Who does it smell like?”

He pointed at her. “You!”

“And when you hug it?” She tucked the toy into his side. “It’s warm, just like when you hug mummy. Prongs will stay with you while you sleep. Sounds good, sweetie?”

Harry blinked tiredly. He curled around Prongs as he yawned. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

Hermione kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Daddy?” 

She froze, her eyes wide. “He’s still in the shower. Want me to get him?”

Harry nodded as he sleepily rubbed his eyes. Hermione took a deep breath. She stood and headed across the room to the door. She went into the master bedroom, wondering how Sirius would react to this turn of events. It was really going to be a hit or miss. 

“Sirius,” she called. He came out of their attached bath with a pair of sweatpants hung low on his hips as he messily towelled his hair dry. He smiled when he caught sight of her. “Harry wants you to say goodnight.”

“Of course. He’s still up then?” He tossed the towel in a basket in the corner and moved across the bedroom to her.

She stopped him with her fingers on his stomach before he could pass. “He called you daddy,” she told him gently.

Sirius tensed all over. His breath stuttered. “He - really?” She nodded. 

Sirius was out of the bedroom in a second. Hermione followed him back to Harry’s room. The toddler was already fast asleep. Hermione hugged herself as she stood in the doorway. The black tattoo of Gryffindor’s sword rippled down Sirius’ spine as he leaned over the bed. The flowers that grew up and around the sword moved with his tanned skin. He rested a heavy hand on Harry’s head for a long moment.

Hermione figured it was bound to happen. With Hermione as Harry’s ‘mummy’ and her now often being found in Sirius’ arms -- it wasn’t going to take long for Harry to make that leap. He’d started calling Sirius ‘Paddy’ a few weeks ago -- ‘daddy’ was sure to follow soon after. It just felt so… unexpected. But she supposed that’s how it had been when he’d first called her ‘mummy.’ 

Sirius pressed a loving kiss to his godson’s head before standing back up. He exited the bedroom and quietly closed the door. When he turned back to her, his eyes were wet but no tears had fallen. She leaned into his naked chest and sent a warmth of comforting magic through their bond. The little spark between them immediately lit to a burning inferno at the skin to skin contact. 

Hermione’s lashes fluttered. She pushed through the hazy fog of their marriage bond. “Are you okay?”

He sucked in a shuddering breath. “Yeah… yeah, I think so.” His eyes widened in wonder. “Do you think he’ll do it again?”

Hermione smiled. Her fingers spread across his tattooed skin. “I’m sure you’ll hear it a million times in the days to come.”

Sirius cupped her cheeks. He pressed a tender kiss against her lips. “Thank you,” he whispered.

She quirked a brow. “For what?”

“Everything,” he whispered against her lips. Their magic bond thrummed between them like it always did nowadays. But just then, she felt the bonds between them physically tug her closer and she knew it was in response to how much he wanted her at that moment. 

Her lashes fluttered. “Sirius,” she whimpered.

He kissed her again, just as gently as the first and in complete contrast to the heat that burned in both their chests. “Let’s go to bed, kitten.”

She gasped breathlessly. “Please.” 

Sirius stepped back. He caught her hand before they fully severed contact and kept their bond crackling like a warm fire between them. He led her back to the master bedroom. The door clicked shut behind them. 

Sirius pulled Hermione into his arms. His mouth descended on hers in a long, deep kiss. Hermione’s fingers tangled in his damp hair. His hands curled around the curve of her arse and Hermione moaned into his mouth. 

Everything tingled. The electric sparks coming off of their bodies were stronger than they’d been since she’d fallen into the past. Hermione thought the magic between them was stronger than it had ever been in the future too. Tension coiled in her stomach. Tingles raced along her torso from her breasts to her core. Everything felt alive with magic and fire -- it was overwhelming.

Hermione broke the kiss with a gasp and a small cry. Her wide brown eyes met his silvery ones and they stared at each other in mutual shock for a moment before their bodies converged again. 

Sirius buried his face in the crook of her neck. His hands dipped lower and he lifted her up into his arms. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist. She pressed her chest against his and revelled in the heat that burned between them.

Their magic moved around them like a livewire -- powerful and dangerous. Her fingers twisted painfully in Sirius’ hair. He hissed and nipped at her neck. Hermione’s gasp turned into a needy whine.

He spread her across the bedsheets. Her curls spilled out on the pillows like tendrils of chocolate. Her flannel robe gaped, revealing his ACDC shirt underneath. Sirius’ eyes narrowed to slits at the sight of her bruised lips and her flushed cheeks. The sight of her in his shirt, looking like that, was completely enthralling.

“Sirius,” she whined. She twisted her fingers in her flannel robe and it parted to reveal his band shirt ridden up on her stomach and a pair of black cotton knickers. 

Sirius was on her with breathless urgency. He peeled the flannel robe from her body as his lips kissed and tongued every delectable inch of tanned skin that was revealed. Every touch and kiss sent magic coursing through his body. He’d never felt so alive.

His tattooed fingers slipped under her shirt and trailed along her skin as he slowly dragged the fabric up and over her head. She was breathtaking. Beauty marks dotted her body and breasts. A curling script of words curled around one side of her ribs that had Sirius huffing in surprise. He bent down and traced the words with his tongue.

Hermione cried out. Her fingers tightened painfully in his damp black hair once more. She forced herself to open her eyes, not having even realized she’d squeezed them shut. The sight of him between her legs as he worshiped her breasts was almost too much to bear. 

The width of his shoulders was designed with delicate black tattoos. Black trees stretched up his upper arm with mountains on the horizon. The other arm was dotted with constellations reaching down to his elbow. She reached a handout and ran it down his spine, tracing the elaborately designed Gryffindor’s sword. The heat of their combined magic radiated off of his skin. 

Her eyelids fluttered shut in ecstasy once more as his lips teased the hard bud at her breast. She moaned deeply. His teeth lightly scraped against her nipple and Hermione gasped in delight. 

She could feel the bulge of his erection against her thigh and rocked her hips into him involuntarily. Her hand slipped down from his shoulders and along his muscled torso until it disappeared into his sweatpants. She gripped him, delighting in the sound of his hiss against her breast. 

Hermione tormented him with long, slow strokes. Her other hand joined the first and her fingers curled around his balls. 

“Fuck,” he swore in a deep, gruff voice. The sound of it sent a thrill through Hermione’s body. The sheets were soaked beneath her -- her knickers were drenched. She doubted she’d even need a spell for when he entered her. Just the thought of him inside her was enough to have her core tightening. 

“Shit, kitten,” Sirius whispered roughly. “I’m not gonna last like that.”

She shook her head. “Please,” she whined, beyond words. The feel of him on top of her was blissful. She’d been thinking about this for months. “Please, Sirius.”

He swore again and kicked his sweatpants down his legs. He crawled up her body and dragged her knickers down her long, tanned legs. She hooked one leg over his hip and drew him closer. His hand shot out and a moment later, his wand flew into it. He cast the contraception spell as well as the one he used so he wouldn’t hurt her. 

Hermione’s arms were around his neck and her lips on his stubble-lined jaw. He tossed his wand away and turned back to her. His fingers cupped her jaw as he caught her lips with his own. Hermione hummed into the feel of his mouth and the taste of his tongue. 

The magic between them felt like a burning inferno. It was hot. Every inch of her skin burned and seared where he touched.

Her eyes widened when he entered her. Her mouth opened as a silent cry left her. Her back arched and her fingers curled into the bedsheets. Sirius hissed as he buried his face in the side of her neck. If her eyes hadn’t been open, Hermione would have thought they’d set the bed on fire. 

She could feel the electric sparks bouncing off their skin. The fire burned between their bodies. Pressed so closely together, Hermione could feel the way their bond fed off of one another. Her fiery magical core burned more hotly in the presence of his own on a normal day but this was too much. 

Sirius released a shuddering breath of air. He slowly slid out before rocking his hips back into her own. Hermione keened and her lashes fluttered. “Oh,” she gasped, “yes.” 

Their combined magic pulsated around the room.

Her hips rose to meet his own in a slow, rolling thrust. Their magic pulsed again.

Sirius started a steady pace. His one arm pressed against the mattress by her head and his face screwed up with the effort to not end it all there and then. The sound of their gasping breaths and the movement of their bodies filled the room. 

Their magic fluctuated ever more wildly with every thrust. The bed vibrated. The painting above them rattled against the wall. 

His nose pressed against her cheek as Hermione’s arms curled around his back. Their magic swelled between them -- ready to burst. It hurt. Hermione’s chest felt like it was swelling to accommodate Sirius’ magic. It hadn’t done this when they’d gotten married nor had it done it when they’d renewed the bond when she first came to the past. 

Her chest ached with every touch they’d denied each other. Her lips burned for every kiss that they’d missed. Her skin tingled with the feel of all the soft, innocent touches they’d shared over the last several weeks. All of it swirled together in a melting pot of longing, lust, and need. Tears streamed from her eyes and wet the curls on either side of her face.

Their coupling didn’t last long. Not by either of their standards. But the end result was like a volcano’s eruption. The magic around them blew outward like a tidal wave hitting land. The mirror of Hermione’s brand new vanity shattered. Pictures fell to the floor. Glass shattered. The short stands of their bed broke and the entire bed hit the floor with a loud  _ crash _ .

Hermione let out a cry of shock. Sirius lost his leverage and collapsed on top of her.

“Fuck,” he swore. His entire body felt like lead. He could barely move a muscle. His heart raced inside his chest. Hermione’s skin was burning against his own, slicked with sweat and just as unmoving.

He blinked lazily and the hazy world slowly came back into view. Loud cries registered as the sensation of sound came back to him.

The noise registered with Hermione at the same time. She pushed at Sirius’ chest. “Up, up, up. Harry’s crying.” Sirius groaned as he rolled to the side. Hermione stumbled out of bed and fell to her hands and knees. She hissed and closed her eyes shut. The room swam. 

Her head was spinning and she could feel the excess magic leaking off of her. Every inch of her skin felt sensitive. She felt radioactive. Their marriage bond had been neglected for too long. Their bond was touch-based and it needed sex like they needed air. The explosive state of their room was evidence enough of that. 

The crying grew louder just before someone knocked on the door. Hermione grabbed her flannel robe from the floor and tossed Sirius his sweatpants.

“Hermione? Sirius?” Remus called worriedly from the other side.

“One minute!” she hollered back breathlessly. “Sirius, trousers. Now.” Hermione grabbed her wand from inside her robe and cast a quick cleansing charm on herself before she slipped the fabric onto her naked body. She tied the belt and checked over her shoulder that Sirius was decent before she threw the bedroom door open.

Remus stood on the other side, eyebrows raised and a screaming toddler in his arms. He looked absolutely exhausted, unsurprising since the full moon had only been the night before. He should have been resting, not called upstairs to take care of a screaming child.

“Oh, Harry.” Harry reached for her at the same time that she pulled him from Remus’ arms. She bounced him gently and shushed loudly over his cries. “I’m so sorry, Remus. Did we wake you?”

“I was reading,” he dismissed as he entered the master bedroom with a curiously wary look on his face. The room was a mess. All the pictures had fallen from the walls and the doors to the walk-in closets were splintered. The vanity mirror and all the glass bottles on it had shattered. 

“What the actual fuck, Padfoot?” 

“Remus,” Hermione reminded, not unkindly. She was always less harsh following the full moon. She paced back and forth by the door with Harry who was no longer screaming, but was still silently crying inconsolably. 

Remus’ shoulders hunched and his cheeks tinged pink. “Sorry.” 

His eyes scanned the room once more. He could smell the sex and magic in the air. With the full moon having just passed, his senses were extremely heightened. He’d heard them and their activities from the parlour room on the ground floor, but the magical backlash they’d wrought on the room was a surprise. 

Instead of asking any number of the questions on his tongue, he drew his wand and began setting the room back to rights.

Sirius groaned as he pulled himself to his feet. He found his own wand and helped Remus clean up, starting with the glass so no one would cut their feet. They went to the two splintered closet doors together. Remus leaned towards Sirius and whispered, “Seriously, Pads. What the hell? Was this your bond?” 

Sirius waved his wand at one of the closet doors. “Yeah. It got completely out of hand, but we couldn’t stop. I… Merlin, mate, that was not the way I was picturing things going.”

“You have a physical bond,” Remus reminded him, not for the first time, as he waved his wand and cleared all the splinters away. Sirius repaired the second door. “You know how dangerous it is to neglect that sort of bond. Physical Category Bonds are the most temperamental. You can’t do this again.”

Sirius nodded. He snuck a glance at his wife over Remus’ shoulder. She was talking soothingly to Harry who was no longer crying, but looked ready to go straight back to it at the drop of a hat. “We won’t. It was stupid of me. I just wanted us to know each other better.”

“Admirable -- especially for you.”

Sirius snorted. “Thanks,” he responded dryly. Remus continued cleaning up the room and Sirius headed over to join his wife. “Alright, Har?” Harry shook his head. Sirius gently ran his hand through the little boy’s hair. “Sorry, buddy. Mummy and I had an accident. We didn’t mean to scare you.”

Harry leaned into Hermione and rested his head against her chest as he stared at Sirius. His face was red and splotchy, his emerald eyes bright from his tears. He held his hand out for Sirius and the wizard moved closer. He took Harry’s hand and kissed the boy’s cheek. 

“How about a glass of warm milk, yeah?”

Harry nodded and leaned towards Sirius. Sirius plucked him from Hermione’s arms. He pressed a kiss to her lips and was mildly concerned when the bond between them immediately sparked with fiery heat once more. 

He pulled back sharply and met Hermione’s wide eyes with no small amount of trepidation. He licked his lips nervously. Had they broken their bond? Had they waited too long to start having sex again? 

Sirius cleared his throat. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She nodded. He slipped past Hermione before heading downstairs with their son. 

Hermione released a long breath. Merlin, what an unexpected mess. Remus turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

Hermione’s entire face flushed red. She raised her hands to her cheeks. “Don’t look at me like that, you look like Professor Lupin.”

Remus snorted before he chuckled. He raised a hand to his unkempt hair. The dark circles under his eyes stood out strongly against the paleness of his face. “I’ll keep that in mind. Are you alright? This looks like it was rather explosive.”

“Magical backlash,” she explained. She crossed her arms over her chest, extremely aware of the fact that she was naked under her dressing robe. Hermione made a face. “It’s not common, as far as I know. I think it’s because it’s been… you know, so long.” 

Remus’ eyes widened and he awkwardly nodded once. He scratched his ear and they looked away from one another. Hermione and Remus’ conversations tended to stay intellectual. 

“Right,” he said at length. He nodded once. “I figured that, actually. Magical bonds can be quite delicate.”

Hermione sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. Her brows drew together. “Thanks for cleaning up.”

Remus pounced on the change in topic. “No problem. As much as Harry likes me, he certainly prefers both you and Sirius.”

Hermione eyed him. He didn’t sound bitter and Remus usually didn’t bother to hide if he was upset over something. “Does that bother you?” Remus looked up at her curiously. “That Harry prefers Sirius and me? Does that bother you?”

Remus’ mouth tugged up at the corner. He shook his head. “I’m a werewolf.” Hermione frowned but nodded. “We see family dynamics differently.”

“Because of the pack dynamic,” Hermione said.

He nodded. “Exactly. Sirius has always been closer to me than the others because he’s also a canine. Our pack bond is stronger. When James married Lily, she wasn’t brought into the pack. We’d planned for her to become an animagus one day and join in. Even Harry wasn’t pack.”

Hermione supposed that made sense. If Harry had been pack, then Remus would have felt the abuse that the Dursleys were imposing on him. Moony wouldn’t have been able to ignore it. 

“And now?”

“The moment I met you,” he told her seriously, “you were pack. I don’t know if it’s because Sirius is a canine and you’re connected through him or maybe Moony is a little more desperate for more people right now.” Hermione smiled sadly at that. Remus shook his head and shrugged. “But he’s never been overly fond of witches in the pack and he readily accepted you. And Harry too, now. Moony sees that Harry belongs to you and Sirius. I’m not jealous in any way. It’s very obvious to me that you’re his parents now.”

Hermione’s eyes teared. “Right.” She nodded as she swallowed down the ball of emotions in her throat. “Okay.”

He gave her a wary look. “Please, don’t cry. I don’t handle crying witches well.” 

“I’m fine,” she replied in a high voice. She wiped her cheeks and sucked in a sharp breath. Remus’ tired eyes darted around the room, obviously in search of an escape.

“Kitten?” Hermione spun around to find Sirius in the door with Harry on his hip. Harry’s face was still splotchy, but he looked a lot calmer than before. “Harry wants a story.”

She nodded quickly. “Okay! Let’s go read a book.” She turned and shot Remus a hopeful look. “Remus? Will you join us?”

An amused smile touched his scarred face and he nodded. “Sure, Hermione.” She smiled brightly and the four of them headed back into Harry’s room for a story.

After Harry was put back to sleep, Sirius and Hermione went back to their room and Remus escaped down to the lower floors of the townhouse. Hermione headed into the ensuite and turned the shower on. Sirius joined her at the door to the loo. “So, that happened.”

Hermione shot him a grin over her shoulder. “I don’t think we should wait so long to have sex again.” She eyed him warily as she thought back to the flare of heat she’d felt when she’d kissed him before he left with Harry. “But I’m not certain what will happen when we have sex again. It feels like the bond’s not done with us.”

Sirius studied her for a long moment. “It probably isn’t,” he replied slowly and carefully watched her reaction. She swallowed visibly and looked away. “I’d thought that our constant touching over the last month would have minimized the outburst.”

She turned back to him with raised eyebrows as she pulled her curls into a pile on her head. “You knew that would happen?”

“I suspected. I mean, our bond is touch-based. It feeds off of physical contact and we’ve basically been starving it. In order for it to get back to a healthy level, the bond needed to compensate.”

Hermione huffed. “I never read about that in my research.”

Sirius grinned slyly. “You researched the bond?”

“Shut up.” 

She turned back to the now steaming shower and dropped her robe. She stepped into the hot, glass shower and was unsurprised when Sirius followed. They stood under the hot water and let it soothe their aching muscles. 

Hermione tipped her head back, careful not to wet her dry curls. “We should probably have sex again, shouldn’t we?” she said as the water poured down her front.

“I think we’re going to feel a little needy until things settle down again,” he told her in a gruff voice that had her pressing her thighs together. The fact that just the sound of his voice was enough to make her wet was more than enough evidence that their bond desired more physical contact. 

He was already hard. His erection pressed into her arse cheek. Sirius’ long fingers curled around her hips and drew her back into him. She leaned back into his chest and her lashes fluttered shut. 

She couldn’t tell what was hotter -- the steaming shower pouring down on them from the showerhead or the heat of their bond that burned between them. Hermione’s skin felt like it was scolding hot and she wasn’t sure what was more to blame. 

Sirius grabbed a bar of soap and lathered her breasts and stomach. Hermione pressed back into him as a moan was pulled from her lips. The rough pads of Sirius’ fingers swept across her sensitive flesh. The soapy lather he’d gathered had his hands slipping across her wet skin and curling under her breasts. He squeezed them gently and Hermione’s moans grew louder.

One of his hands moved lower down her body while the other palmed her breast. Hermione’s breath hitched in anticipation as he journeyed down the curves and plateaus of her body. Her skin tingled with sparks of magic in the path he trailed down to the apex of her thighs. His fingers slipped between her folds. 

Hermione gasped and turned her head into him. Long fingers gently stretched up her throat and caressed her jaw. He pressed down on her clit and she whimpered as her core clenched tightly. 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ .”

Sirius nipped at her ear. “Language,” he teased. Hermione could only whimper in response. His fingers curled into her mons and she moaned happily. The steaming hot water felt cool against their fevered skin. 

Their bond hummed insistently between them -- tantalizing and electric, but not the blazing inferno of only an hour before. While it still felt hot -- and certainly needy -- Hermione wasn’t so worried about another magical backlash.

“The spells are still active,” she breathed, barely audible above the pounding of the water against the tiles. 

Sirius’ thumb swept across her bottom lip. “Is that an invitation?” Her tongue darted out and tasted his thumb. Her eyes never left his.

It was all the invitation Sirius needed. He spun her in his arms and pressed her against the cold tile of the shower wall. She gasped in shock and her heavy-lidded eyes shot wide. 

Sirius pressed a hot, opened mouthed kiss against her throat. He grasped her thigh and pulled it over his hip. Hermione stretched up on her toes. Her arms wrapped around his tattooed shoulders. Sirius lifted her into his arms. 

“ _ Yes _ .” The feel of his hard body pressing her into the shower wall was tantalizing. Her nails dug into his shoulders. The feel of him entering her so soon after just having had him was overwhelming in all the best ways. He filled her so fully, so perfectly. 

Hermione couldn’t really imagine being with anyone else. The thought was ludicrous. This is where she was meant to be, held tightly in Sirius’ strong, tattooed arms with his hands and lips doing terrible things to her.

Their skin slapped together. The sound of it echoed around the standing shower. Their magic crackled in the air, but thankfully didn’t grow any wilder than that. Hermione’s ankles locked behind Sirius’ back. Her core tightened around his thick cock. 

Sirius’ fingers threaded through the wet curls at the back of her head. He angled her face towards his and kissed her thoroughly. His hips didn’t falter for a second. Hermione moaned around the taste of his tongue in her mouth. 

Her nails bit into the muscles on his lean back. Her magic flared and she cried out as clenched around him. Sirius hissed. The heat of her magic licked enticingly at his own. He pressed his face into her neck and groaned as he came. 

They stood together under the pounding water as they gasped for breath. Hermione cupped the side of his face. Water from the shower trailed down his cheekbones like teardrops. She pressed her lips against his in a long, tender kiss.

* * *

“Did Remus go back to sleep?” Hermione asked Sirius when she entered the bedroom. She was wearing a Sex Pistols shirt he’d found for her. Her hair had curled into even tighter ringlets from the steam of the shower and framed her face prettily. “I picked up a sleeping draught for him today if he needs it.” 

Sirius eyed her long, bare legs with obvious interest. “I already offered, but he says he’s going to stay up and read.”

Hermione sighed. Remus really ought to sleep, but he always had trouble doing so in the days leading up to and following the full moon. The energy of the wolf left behind so soon after his transformation always caused insomnia. He’d sleep fine in the morning, but he’d be up all night, despite his exhaustion. 

“Well, if that’s the case, I suppose we could have that discussion now. It’s long overdue and I’d like to talk things over before your father gets here this weekend.”

Sirius frowned. She was talking about her time with Lady Longbottom. The meetings had come on the cusp of their move and the full moon. Things had been rather frantic between getting into the new house, furnishing it, keeping Harry from having a meltdown over it all, and the full moon. They hadn’t had time to talk about what she’d discussed with Lady Longbottom, only that a discussion had taken place and important things had been revealed.

Honestly, Sirius didn’t really want to know. He liked the happy little bubble they were living in. It was the main reason he hadn’t spoken much about his father to Hermione. It wasn’t going to be easy having him live under the same roof as them. Orion, while not Walburga, was still old fashioned and intolerant of a lot of things.

While Sirius was certain that his father wouldn’t push Hermione and Harry away, he didn’t expect it to be a simple or easy road to acceptance either. Orion was going to sniff and sneer at Hermione’s muggle clothes and refusal to get a house-elf. He would likely sneer about her hands-on attitude with Harry. Sirius wanted to avoid this conversation at all costs for as long as possible. 

“Right,” he said, sadly realizing that his go-to routine of avoidance was about to bite him in the arse again. “That’s probably best.”

He held out his hand for her and Hermione took it with a pleased smile. She donned her robe and tied it at her waist before following her shirtless husband downstairs. Remus was in the parlour room by the entrance. He had a book in his hand, a pot of tea at his side, and a plate of cookies on the couch beside him. He looked up when they entered the room.

“Can we join you?” Hermione asked even as Sirius took a seat at the other end of the couch and pulled her into his lap.

Remus nodded, a little smirk on his face as he watched the two of them interact. “Your bond has finally settled, I see,” he teased, mostly to Sirius.

Hermione’s cheeks burned and she looked away, unable to make eye contact with her former professor. She silently thanked Merlin that he didn’t have the memories of his future self, where he’d walked in on her and Sirius having sex at Grimmauld Place.

Sirius barked a laugh and smiled lasciviously. “We just needed our own bed.” His hand tapped her behind and Hermione pinched his side at the action. “Oi!”

She tilted her head at him and pursed her lips. “That’s enough of that, I’d like to discuss what happened at Longbottom Lodge, now that we finally have time to breathe.” She turned to Remus who still looked exhausted with his massive dark circles under his eyes. “If you’re up to it.”

Remus nodded. He lifted his mug of tea and slurped loudly. “Hit us with it.”

Hermione nodded. “Well, Harry and Neville got along wonderfully,” she started, even though both wizards already knew that. Harry had babbled about his new friend all day and night after meeting him. It’d been absolutely adorable. 

“That’s good though,” Remus reminded her as she leaned forward and snagged herself a chocolate chip cookie. “Harry needs to make friends his own age.”

Hermione swallowed down the bite of the cookie in her mouth. “There are few better than Neville Longbottom. He was a true friend to us throughout the years. Lady Longbottom mentioned since they almost share the same birthday, that we should do a joint venture. It’s the first official social event I’ll be involved in as Mrs. Black and apparently, that’s a big deal.” Hermione raised her eyebrows as she looked at Sirius pointedly. 

He coughed into his hand. When she didn’t look away he shrugged. “What? Oh, come on. How am I supposed to remember that?”

“It’s your culture, Sirius. You’re a pure-blood.” She pressed her fingers against the pain above her eyebrow. “Lady Longbottom gave me this whole list of things your father will be expecting of me and a book -- a book! Honestly.” She rolled her eyes.

Remus’ grin widened. “What exactly is expected of a pure-blood witch?”

Sirius snorted. “Marrying a wealthy wizard and providing a male heir?”

Hermione poked him in the ribs, her lips pursed. “Thanks for the warning, mutt. We have to have a baby?”

Sirius made a face. “Well…”

“And possibly soon if your father has anything to say about it and apparently he can,” she continued and he winced. “That might not mean right now, but it’s certainly going to be soon and we need to plan it out. A baby is a big thing.” She shoved the rest of her cookie into her mouth as she pouted.

“I’m sorry.” He rested his hand on her calf and rubbed his fingers across her smooth skin. He deliberately pulled on their bond to soothe her ire. Hermione’s toes curled as a tingling feeling danced up her legs and to her core. She scowled at him for the effects he was having on her.

His lips twitched, but he just managed to keep his amused smile at bay. “I was sort of hoping we could wait for things to settle down a bit more before we talked about it. Being the Black Heir and having an heir of my own only recently became an issue for me during the war and it’s not like I was entirely focused on it. I haven’t thought much about it.”

She crossed her arms. He meant because his brother had died. It was hard to stay mad at him when something like that was involved. “Because of your brother,” she whispered.

Sirius tensed under her. Remus stared at them with wide eyes.

Hermione uncrossed her arms and rested her hand on his arm. He was so tense, it was shaking. “Lady Longbottom told me a bit about it all.”

Sirius swallowed thickly. His jaw clenched. “It all?” he reiterated in a slightly mocking tone. He raised a dark brow at her.

Hermione scowled. She flicked his arm. “Don’t be a git to me about this, Sirius. You weren’t telling me important things about our life. Lady Longbottom filled me in on the things you’ve left out.” Sirius glared a hole into the floor. “I understand why,” she added gently. “I wouldn’t want to talk about it either and god knows there are loads I haven’t talked about myself. But please, don’t  _ hide _ things from me.”

“Yes, Sirius,” Remus agreed and looked pointedly at his best friend, “don’t hide things from your wife.”

Sirius shot the werewolf a glare.

Hermione, ever the observant witch, immediately caught the look between them. “What? Is there more?” Her eyes widened on her husband. “Sirius?”

Sirius released a long sigh. “I… may or may not have exaggerated about my father.”

Hermione felt her insides twist with anxiety. “How so?”

“I said he’s less strict than my mother and that’s true.” He made a face when Remus snorted. “But that’s not saying much.”

Hermione grimaced. She wished she could say she was surprised, but she’d had misgivings about Orion Black since Sirius first brought the man up. “Is he going to be completely intolerable?”

“No,” Sirius immediately assured her. “I mean, he doesn’t hate muggle-borns. He thinks all magical people are… magical people. He doesn’t think muggle-borns stole magic or are filthy or anything.”

“But he does think less of us,” she inferred. 

“He thinks they’re resistant to learning our culture and that they don’t respect the way the British Wizarding World works.” Hermione opened her mouth, but Sirius quickly continued. “He’s not overly resistant to change. But he was a lawyer and he often saw the way muggle-borns would try to implement changes in the Wizarding World the way any muggle would in their own world. But the Wizarding World isn’t the muggle world and it can’t be handled the same way.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “He and I are going to argue constantly, aren’t we?”

Sirius looked pained. “I hope not. He could easily make our lives more difficult if he really wanted to.” 

“Like ordering us to have a baby right away.” She glared at him.

He winced. “Yeah, like that.”

“Or ordering me to leave,” Remus put in and Sirius turned his pained face on his best friend.

Hermione gasped in outrage. She jumped to her feet. “That is not happening.”

“Hermione-” Sirius tried to placate.

“-No!” she snapped. She pointed her finger at her husband. “You listen to me, Sirius Black, your father does not get a say in who lives with us. The house we bought is our house -- not his -- and Remus Lupin is going to live with us until the day he dies if I say so.” Sirius and Remus both leaned back in their seats, eyes wide as her magical aura sparked around her. “We are taking Orion into our home and he will be both gracious and thankful. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he stuttered, grey eyes wide and a little breathless. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” Hermione’s cheeks turned pink and her shoulders curled inward at the compliment. The flare of her magical aura quickly receded.

Remus smiled at the young witch. “Hermione-”

“-Not a word, Remus. You’re family.”

She went to sit between them but Sirius caught her around her waist and pulled her back into his lap. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “I’m still a little mad at you,” she primly informed him. “I mean, I’m your wife. I’m under Orion’s thumb regardless, but Remus shouldn’t have to deal with a man who’s going to treat him any less than the wizard he is.” She gestured to their friend as she spoke. 

Remus’ eyes teared and he looked away from the couple as he drew in a sharp breath. He hid his emotions well, but Sirius knew him better. He saw how affected the werewolf was by Hermione’s words. 

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable in our new home,” Sirius said. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Remus shook his head. He swallowed visibly. “I knew what I was getting into, even if Hermione didn’t.” He forced a grin to his face as he said, “At least I don’t have to have your baby too.”

“You should be so lucky,” Sirius scoffed. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Is there anything else I should be aware of?”

Her husband’s eyes widened. “Merlin, kitten, I don’t know. Probably? Auggie will help you out with that crap.” She poked him for his language. He gestured to the staircase, which could be seen through the open archway into the parlour room. “The kid’s asleep!” he protested.

“Still,” she persisted. Her fingers threaded through the long curls at the nape of his neck. “So, are we okay with combining Harry and Neville’s birthdays?” 

Sirius shrugged. “If that makes things easier for you, I’m all for it. Auggie is considered a respectable witch in both light and dark circles -- which is pretty rare. She’ll help you navigate the pure-blood world. And the boys are godbrothers, after all, they should share the event.”

Hermione nodded. “Good.”

“Now,” Remus said as he sat back more comfortably, “about this revolution?” Sirius raised his eyebrows at his wife.

Hermione leaned away from Sirius’ chest as she shifted in his lap. “Lady Longbottom and I were discussing how to best use my future knowledge to our benefit.”

“Is that wise?” Remus raised an eyebrow. Sirius remained quiet.

She licked her lips. “I’m nervous about it, I’ll admit. Everything I know about time travel claims that it’s a bad idea. But Lady Longbottom is…” She looked back and forth between Remus and Sirius. “She’s also from the future.”

The wizards were nonplussed at that revelation and Hermione laughed. “I know. I was shocked as well. But she has experience with this and her husband is the Head of the DoM. So… I feel confident that they’ll tell us if we’re crossing a line or not.”

“I suppose that’s something,” Remus agreed.

“My being here has already changed things for the better,” Hermione continued. “Harry’s safe and so are you.” She looked to her husband who was remaining too quiet, in her opinion. He didn’t like it. She could tell just by looking at his face. Hermione met Sirius’ eyes firmly. “The prophecy isn’t just going to go away,” she whispered. “We have to do something while we still can.”

Sirius studied her with his piercing grey eyes. “And you’d be willing to talk about it? To discuss all that’s happened in the future?”

“Everything relevant, yes. If it’ll help Harry.” He still didn’t look convinced. “Look, I know I’ve been tight-lipped about a lot of things, but I will talk about it and it does need to be handled. There are a lot of things… a lot of terrible things that I watched Harry live through… that I had to live through myself. We can prevent them from happening.”

“And we’re going to,” Remus assured with a firm nod. “It’s our duty to protect Harry. James and Lily would never forgive us if we didn’t.” He looked pointedly at his friend.

Sirius sighed and gave a reluctant nod. “Of course. I’m just worried about exposing you to a group of people I don’t yet know the names of.”

“Yes, well, I’m not too keen on that idea either. She will be sending out the invites to Harry and Neville’s birthday this weekend. The people she’d like to have with us will all be in attendance. We’re going to talk about it next weekend after we’ve had some time to get Orion settled. The other invitations to join our group won’t go out until after we’ve finalized a list. I’ll make sure that you and Remus both have a look at it, okay?”

He raised a hand to cup the side of her face. She turned and pressed a kiss to his palm. “Alright.” He sighed again as he shook his head. “I really need to get you one of those occlumency necklaces.”

She grinned. “That’d be very much appreciated.” She glanced at the clock. “I suppose we should all head to bed now. You’ve work in the morning, don’t you, Remus?”

The werewolf winced. “Uh… not as such.” Sirius and Hermione raised their eyebrows. Remus tiredly ran a hand down the side of his scarred face. “I was fired.”

Hermione sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged. “It was a matter of time. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what I am after a certain amount of sick days and how they fall around the moon.” 

Sirius shook his head. “We need to find you a better job. Something where your employers aren’t prejudiced arseholes.”

“Tall order,” he quipped.

Hermione gasped. “The charity!” She leaned forward in Sirius’ lap. “You should come work at the charity!”

“What charity?”

She sat up straight, practically vibrating with excitement. “We don’t have a name yet. I’ve been thinking about it and I want it to be inclusive, you know? I mean, our goals might change and-”

“-Hermione,” Sirius interrupted, “a few steps back, kitten. What’re you talking about?”

She looked back and forth between the two wizards and quickly realized they had no clue what she was talking about. Of course, they didn’t, she hadn’t told them about it yet. 

“Lady Longbottom said we need a reason for our group to get together. We don’t want to be as obvious about ourselves as the Order is and we don’t want to be linked to them. I came up with the idea to put on the front of a charity. That way, we can meet as often as we like and wherever suits us best. But, it would need to be a real, functioning charity, of course.”

Remus nodded. “That’s clever. What sort of charity are you going to build?”

“Well, ideally, I’d like to form something that will work towards the betterment and inclusion of muggle-borns and half-bloods. But we could also start a project for werewolf care!” she exclaimed excitedly. “I mean, the process we had to go through just to get our hands on some wolfsbane was ridiculous and we were throwing the name Black around like we were planning on taking over the ministry.” 

Sirius snorted at that description. She wasn’t far off. 

“I can’t imagine how others have been managing,” she continued. “It should be available to all werewolves across Britain. And oh! Could you imagine if we had a reserve like they do in Canada? A place that is magically protected for all werewolves to use? Portkeys could be made available.” She gasped. “And healers for directly after the full moon ends.” She jumped up off of Sirius and headed towards the staircase, which would lead her up to the study. “I need to write this down. Oh, this will be brilliant, Remus! I’m so excited!”

Sirius slowly turned to his shellshocked best friend. Remus was staring after Hermione as if he’d never seen her before. “Well… congratulations on your new job, mate.”

Remus swallowed visibly. He huffed a small, disbelieving laugh. “Thanks?”

* * *

Lord Orion Black looked up from the book he was reading, a pair of square reading glasses on his nose. His curly hair was pushed back from his forehead, revealing his angled face. Sirius had adopted most of his looks from his father. They shared the same cheekbones, jawline, and the Black family’s grey eyes. He remembered how Hermione had said how similar he looked to his older self when they’d first come to visit him. He’d never thought about it before then, but they did look a lot alike.

But whereas Sirius had spent the last several months out of Azkaban working out and eating healthy, his father had been on a much slower track to recovery. He was frail and his face was heavily lined. He looked so much older than he had only a few years prior before Sirius had been imprisoned. The healers said he had been close -- just days away from dying.

“Sirius?” Orion took off his reading glasses and frowned at his son. His hands shook visibly, the healers claimed they would until he was at full health again. “We didn’t have a visit scheduled today and the move isn’t until tomorrow.” 

Sirius grinned and closed the door. His father didn’t like surprises. He made plans and everyone stuck to them or there was hell to pay. It was a wonder it took so long for Walburga to try to kill him. She was a volatile witch and didn’t listen to anyone about anything. The two of them had been a match made in hell.

“I needed to talk to you before the move.” He pulled over a chair from the wall and took his usual seat at his father’s bedside. 

Orion studied Sirius intently. “Has something happened?”

Sirius made a face. “I wouldn’t say so. Uhm…” He leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees. “So… I’m married.”

Orion’s face remained carefully blank. He studied his son. “You aren’t wearing a ring.”

Sirius looked down at his hands. His eyebrows jumped up. “Uhm… no, suppose not. I don’t think we have rings.”

Orion frowned. “You’re being deliberately obtuse again. I see that aspect hasn’t gone away since your boyhood.”

Sirius huffed and sat back. “Dad…”

His father raised a dark brow. “What do you want me to say to you, Sirius? Congratulations? Who is this witch? Why have I not met her?” 

Sirius winced. He ran a hand down his face. His father wasn’t out of line. Sirius had been a real idiot about this. He just didn’t want to ruin the happy little bubble that they’d created. His father was a good man, but he was also an old man and he had old ideals. It didn’t help that Sirius’ main form of dealing with issues was avoidance. 

When still, Sirius did not answer, Orion continued. “I am your Head of House. Since I was ill when you married, I’m unsurprised to have not met the witch. But I’ve been awake for some time now, Sirius.”

“It’s… it’s complicated.”

The explanation was obviously not good enough. “Explain.”

Sirius drew his wand and shot it at the door to Orion’s hospital room. He didn’t want anyone listening in. “She’s from the future,” he blurted out and Orion tensed. “She married my future self and ended up back in time -- by accident,” he added before his father could add his two-cents in about that. When his father remained quiet, Sirius decided to go for broke and quickly said, “And we’ve got my godson living with us -- Harry Potter. Jamie’s kid. He - uh… He was in the book about the war I gave you?”

They’d had a very serious discussion about the blood war several weeks back. Sirius had come with books about it -- at Hermione’s insistence. A conversation about Regulus had followed shortly after with no small amount of regret and shock. 

Orion set his glasses on his side table. His fingers linked together and he rested them on the book in his lap like it was a table. He levelled his son with a blank, serious stare. “You mean to tell me that I have the Saviour of the Wizarding World living in my home?”

“My home,” he mumbled, his face red as he ducked his head.

“I beg your pardon?” Orion raised his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side to hear his son better.

Sirius let out a harsh breath. “The townhouse we’ve bought belongs to Hermione and me. She asked me to make that clear to you. She’s… Remus is living with us and she was upset when she thought you might be cruel to him.” Sirius raised his eyebrows at his father. “Which is a valid fear.”

Orion’s eyes narrowed. “You mean the werewolf.” Sirius glared. Orion scoffed and looked away. “Your bride is sympathetic to his disease? Obviously, she’s not someone your mother picked out.”

Sirius ground his teeth together. He could feel his temper rising. His fingers curled into fists. Remus was probably the biggest cause of friction between his father and himself. Orion had always been openly disdainful about Sirius’ choice in friends in that regard. James had been approved of and Peter tolerable, but Remus was unacceptable to him. 

“I suppose that’s good, though.” Sirius’ head shot up at his father’s words. “I’d be terrified to see whatever witch your mother found to be an acceptable bride.” Sirius held his breath. “I can’t say I’m pleased, but I suppose it is your home.” Orion raised an eyebrow. “Your friend won’t ever be welcome on my property, within the walls of Blackstone Manor, once I take it over. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Sirius swallowed down his irritation and decided to take the win for what it was. He’d never had to compromise with his family before. But Regulus wasn’t here to take the burden of being the heir off his shoulders anymore. 

“Tell me about her,” Orion ordered softly, “your witch from the future. How much older than you is she?”

Sirius coughed into his hand. “Uhm… she’s just about seventeen right now. I uh… it’s complicated.” Orion smirked at him. Sirius’ face turned red and he slouched back in his seat. “You’ll hear the story another day.”

Orion nodded. He continued to stare at his son in amusement as he waited for more details. 

Sirius turned his head and stared at the stack of books on Orion’s bedside table. “Her name’s Hermione and she’s… brilliant,” he told his father. “I mean… ridiculously intelligent. Not to mention the most genuinely compassionate person I’ve ever met. She’s so… empathetic.”

“Not a pure-blood, then,” Orion guessed.

Sirius shot his father a furtive look. “A muggle-born.”

Orion nodded once. “But smart?”

He nodded. “The smartest. She uh…” he grinned and nodded his chin at Orion’s books, “she picked all the books you’ve been reading.”

Orion’s eyebrows raised in a rare look of surprise. He turned and stared at the heavy stack of magical law books and theory texts. “She hasn’t read all of these, has she?”

Sirius shrugged. “Probably. She’d be too anxious to send you a book she hasn’t already read and verified wouldn’t be a waste of your time. She’s very… she wants to make a good impression. I doubt she’s had many positive experiences with pure-bloods.”

It wasn’t so much a warning as it was a plea. Orion raised a dark, knowing eyebrow at his son. Sirius didn’t want his father to be too harsh on the girl. Most pure-bloods could be rather harsh to new females brought into the family. It was an old, sexist adage that women needed to prove themselves worthy of the prestige of their new house.

“I look forward to seeing her rise to the occasion,” Orion said and watched as his son hid his annoyance behind a pure-blood mask. “And young Harry?”

Sirius couldn’t stop the quirk of his mouth. “He’s a treasure. Quiet, shy. He wasn’t… his muggle aunt and uncle were absolutely shite to him, but Hermione’s been incredible with him. He’s uh… he’s taken to calling her ‘mum’ now.” A small smile spread across his face. “He’s calling me ‘dad’ too. I was hoping you could help me.”

Orion frowned. “To get him to stop?”

Sirius shook his head. He leaned forward in his seat. “Nah, that’s fine. I haven’t talked to Hermione about it, but I’d like your help punishing Tuney and her husband for what they did to Harry.”

Orion’s face remained impassive as he thought that over. He knew Sirius meant punish in the legal sense. Orion had been a formidable lawyer before his wife began to poison him. Once he’d gotten sick enough, he’d been forced to step down from the prosecution office. “We don’t normally try muggles in the Wizengamot.”

“But you could make it happen? I want it public. I want the world to know.”

“Why?” Orion narrowed his eyes. “This is your son’s private life. Why let the world know he has had anything but the best afforded to him? What could you possibly gain but pity?” He raised his hand when Sirius opened his mouth before he was finished. “I’m not saying I won’t. I just don’t see why it shouldn’t be private. Justice doesn’t mean the world has to be watching.”

Sirius nodded. “In this case, it does. Tuney and her husband aren’t the only ones at fault. Dumbledore is the one who put Harry there. I haven’t seen James’ will yet, I figured I should wait until you could translate for me.'' Orion smirked at that comment. “But I know James would never have allowed Harry to end up with his aunt. I doubt you could bring Dumbledore to court, but you could give him hell for what he’s done and make the world stop seeing him like a bloody saviour.”

“Adding to your blackmail of the headmaster, are we?”

“No,” Sirius immediately denied, because it was true. This wasn’t about his stint in Azkaban. “This is for Harry. This is for all the people out there who’ve been manipulated by him. I’m sure there are others. There must be. It’s justice.”

“We could take it to the ICW,” Orion suggested, but his heart wasn’t in it. The International Confederation of Wizards would only turn it into a mess of paperwork and red lines. The Wizengamot was a much better option for the set of their show, despite the fact that Dumbledore was Chief Warlock. 

Sirius shook his head. “It’s not an international crisis. They won’t care as much as the people of Britain.”

Orion nodded slowly. “I’m willing to look into it. But we might need to pass the case along to Manning Rowle’s son, Asmund, or that other one.” He snapped his fingers. “Who was the lawyer for the House of Potter?”

“Uhm… Reize, I think. Something Reize.”

“Huart!” Orion remembered as he snapped his fingers. “Huart Reize. He was a young bloke last I checked. I’m sure he’s less wet behind the ears now.”

“Right. Well, I haven’t contacted Asmund Rowle since my return. They weren’t invited to my trial, actually.” He rolled his eyes.

Orion spluttered, completely uncharacteristic of his normally stoic self. “Your family lawyer wasn’t contacted? Oh, the gall of Albus Dumbledore.” Orion glared at the far wall of his private hospital room. “I’ve been speaking with him about Walburga’s trial. He’s taken my statement.”

Neither commented on the fact that Sirius had refused to give his own statement. Orion didn’t blame his son and it wasn’t as if one was necessary. In another week, the trial would be over with and they wouldn’t have to think about it again.

“Asmund never mentioned not being at your trial. I suppose he expected me to bring it up.” Orion frowned into the middle distance. “I’ll discuss it with him after the move.”

“Good. Good.” He shot his father a grateful look. “Thank you.”

Orion nodded once. “It’s our duty to protect our family. Harry Potter is a part of our family. I can feel that you adopted him into our magic.”

“Yeah,” Sirius swallowed down the memories of that terrifying night where the three had crowded around baby Harry to perform the magical ceremony. “Blacks were being picked off left and right. I… I wanted to make sure the family magic survived.”

“You did well,” Orion said gently. Sirius looked up in surprise. “It was a smart move. And even if you hadn’t done it… with him thinking of you and your wife as his parents, I’d have probably been moved to do it either way.”

Sirius couldn’t help the small smile that touched his lips at his father’s words.

“Now, onto other matters.” Orion levelled a serious stare at his son. “After I move in, I’d like to begin lessons with you.”

“Lessons?” Sirius asked, his throat suddenly tight.

Orion nodded. “It’s been a long time since you’ve had lessons about being the future Lord Black. From what you’ve told me, Regulus received most of the training after I fell ill. I have much that I need to go through and look over. More of us fell in this past war than I’m comfortable with. I didn’t…” He shook his head. “I didn’t expect to wake up with my parents and siblings all dead.”

Sirius looked down. He had mourned the loss of his Uncle Alphard. But there weren’t many other Blacks that he’s been all that upset to see go. Their family was not filled with kind, caring individuals. Not normally, Sirius silently corrected himself, thinking of his wife.

“We can go over the Black estate together. It will be a good way for you to familiarize yourself with it and your duty. It will help take a little burden off my shoulders, as well, while I’m still recuperating.”

Sirius released a shallow breath. He nodded. “Okay.” 

His hands were shaking.

* * *

Hermione sat snuggled up with Harry in his bed while Sirius read  _ Green Eggs and Ham _ . Harry had Prongs clutched to his chest as he blinked tiredly. A soft snore left him as he fell into sleep. Sirius smiled, amused by the sound of Harry’s snoring. He raised an eyebrow at Hermione who nodded back. 

They silently slipped from the bed. Hermione pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead, followed closely by Sirius doing the same.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” she whispered. Sirius took her hand and they left the little boy to sleep. The door closed quietly behind them. Hermione turned away and headed into their bedroom. Her husband followed with a sigh.

She was still a little mad at him for lying about his father. In his own defence, Remus hadn’t been around when he’d first explained about his father’s prejudices. And it wasn’t as if he could  _ change _ what his father believed. Nor could he change who his father was.

None of those comments had endeared Hermione to his lying. “An omission of the truth doesn’t excuse the fact that it wasn’t the truth,” she’d snapped that night, before rolling over and going to sleep.

Sirius closed the door behind him. “I spoke with my father today.”

Hermione hummed. She went to her walk-in closet and began searching for sleepwear to change into. 

“I told him about everything. About you being from the future and how you mean to change things for the better.” 

She hummed in response again. He watched as she stripped out of her jeans and top. His entire body tingled with the desire to reach across the space and drew her into his arms. The sex yesterday had been fantastic, but he already wanted her again. They’d agreed that holding off on sex was no longer an option after the backlash yesterday, but his pretty, little wife didn’t seem intent on having sex with him that night.

“I told him about Remus.”

Hermione paused in the middle of taking off her bra. She turned to him with a single eyebrow raised.

He took a deep breath. “My dad understands that this isn’t his home. He won’t put up a fuss about Remus. He’s agreed to keep his opinions on the matter to himself.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

She smiled widely. “Okay,” was her response in an upbeat, cheerful manner. It was all she’d wanted, he knew. He couldn’t help but feel even more enamoured with her and her desire to make his best mate feel like family. 

Hermione took off her bra and shot him a coy smile. “Can I steal a shirt to sleep in?”

A salacious smirk slithered across his face. “Oh, kitten, you can sleep naked. I won’t complain.”

Hermione snorted. “Harry will ask questions later, so unless  _ you _ feel like giving a three-year-old the talk.”

Sirius snorted. “Let me get you a shirt.” 

Hermione followed him, clad in nothing but her knickers to his own closet next to hers.

“I like your tattoo by the way. Muggle?”

She smiled. “Yes. I got it going into my sixth year.” She came up behind him and tucked her hands under his loose white tee. Her fingers traced the black lines of Gryffindor’s sword, the point of which was just visible above his sweats. “What about yours?”

“A few in school -- most during the war.” He turned and pushed his shoulder-length hair out of the way. “This one from Azkaban.”

Hermione touched the grey tattoo that denoted his prisoner number. It was mixed with ancient runes that were eerily similar to the ones he had painted down the front of his chest to his pelvis. 

“Here.” He handed her a Black Sabbath shirt. Hermione thanked him quietly as he headed past her. “There’s more.”

“More tattoos?” she asked as she donned his shirt. It was smaller and shorter than the others. Hermione suspected it was one of his older ones. 

She went to her vanity and searched through the glass vials that had been replaced that day after they’d been exploded the night before. She thought it was a little extreme to put makeup and hair potions in  _ glass bottles _ but Sirius refused to have anything less. It was moments like that, when he wanted the most pointlessly expensive option, that it really hit home how much of a pure-blood he was -- or at the very least how he was born ridiculously rich.

“More conversation with my father,” he clarified as Hermione found her bottle filled with her body cream. 

She turned to him as she spread the magical serum onto her arms, as was her nightly routine. “Go on.”

“He wants to start up lessons with me.”

“About what?” She lifted a leg to her cushioned vanity stool and continued her routine.

“Being Lord Black?” Sirius shrugged and flopped down on the end of the bed. “I don’t fucking know. I have to be a proper wizard now.”

She snorted. “Welcome to the club.” Sirius shot her a glare. Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Don’t give me that look. You know I didn’t want any of this either. I just wanted to not marry a terrible creep.” She headed across the room towards him and slipped a knee onto either side of him. She settled in his lap. “Are you really so surprised?” she asked as she lost her fingers into his hair and dragged them back.

Sirius hummed in contentment. His hands curled around her thighs. “I guess not. I just sort of hoped if I didn’t think about it long enough, it wouldn’t happen.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “We need to work on your avoidance issues.”

He scoffed. He twisted and Hermione gasped as her back hit the bed. Sirius’ lips slanted across her own before she had time to catch her breath. Hermione moaned as his tongue met hers. His long, hard body pressed against every inch of her own. The heat of him radiated through her shirt. Her body tingled with the energy of their marriage bond. She wrapped her legs around his waist and ground into him.

Sirius moaned. He pulled back. “I have something for you,” he told her in a breathless whisper.

Hermione’s smile was full of sin. “I’ll bet you do.” 

He huffed a laugh and swatted the side of her arse. “Oh, sweetheart, you can have that  _ after _ .” He pulled her legs from his waist and she pouted as she let him go. Sirius reached over to his bedside table. He sat up on his knees, still seated between her spread thighs, as he pulled out a little black box.

“Sirius!” Hermione quickly sat up. “What-?”

“-We don’t have rings,” he told her quickly. “My dad pointed it out and I realized that’s just not fair. Every pretty girl deserves a pretty ring.”

Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. She looked down at the ring. 

It looked like an antique with a gold band that branched out into two before connecting to the oval gemstone in the centre. Instead of a diamond, a vibrant green stone stared back at her. Hermione could feel the magic emanating from the stone. It was surrounded by a ring of circular diamonds. 

The solid green state of the central gemstone made it almost casual in comparison to many other pure-blood rings she’d seen and she liked that. She didn’t want anything ostentatious and the ring was already fairly extravagant looking. 

“Sirius,” she breathed. She slowly shook her head. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to.”

Her eyes watered. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

Sirius smiled charmingly. “Anything for you, kitten.” He plucked the ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger. “I’ve got us some wedding bands as well, if you like.”

Hermione admired the ring on her hand with a fond smile on her face. She nodded quickly. “I’d love to see them.” He moved so he was sitting against the headboard of the bed and Hermione joined him. He pulled a second box from the bedside table.

She opened it to reveal two golden bands. One was thin and studded with diamonds all the way around, matching the stones in her ring. The other was thicker and had a line of black that ran through the middle. “What is this?”

“Onyx,” he explained as he took the diamond wedding band out and slipped it onto her finger next to her engagement ring. 

The colour of her stone was soft and light, the way he imagined his wife. She was like a breath of fresh air in a life filled with darkness and sorrow. He’d never thought he’d have anything light and good in his life again. The memory of Hermione walking into the Azkaban interrogation room would stay with him for the rest of his life. 

“It’s my birthstone.”

Hermione frowned down at Sirius’ wedding band in her hand. She inspected it closely. “I don’t recall onyx being a birthstone?”

“Not the muggle kind, no. It’s a Black family tradition for the father to assign their child a stone after their birth. The stone will bring them different things, based on the stone that’s chosen.”

Hermione smiled. “I like that tradition.” She slipped the ring onto his finger. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight. There was something oddly appealing at the thought of Sirius wearing a ring. Everyone would know he was hers now. She was his wife. Hermione preened at the thought. 

“I picked chrysoprase for you,” he said. Hermione looked down at her own ring. Chrysoprase? Was that what the green stone was? “You’re a Black now. Tradition dictates you have your own stone. Chrysoprase has multiple uses, but it’s meant to connect your heart to others and to the earth. It helps when facing threatening situations, strengthening your ability to stay centred in your heart and to act in compassion rather than fear or anger.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Do you think I need to do those things?”

He smirked. His grey eyes smouldered as he looked at her. “No. I think you already do these things. The point of choosing a birthstone is to help protect the baby or instill positive qualities in their character. A marriage stone is about best expressing your partner. You’re compassionate and strong.” Hermione’s heart fluttered in her chest. “Do you like it?”

She nodded. She pressed a kiss to his lips before she crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Their marriage bond was finally satiated and it felt like a warm ember between their chests. Hermione pulled back when her lips were thoroughly bruised. She blinked at him, her eyes hooded. Sirius’ hands curled around her thighs. “Tell me about the onyx,” she said in a low, breathless tone of voice.

Sirius pulled her closer until she was sitting on the bulge in his sweats. “Is that really what you want to talk about right now, kitten?”

Hermione bit her lip as she nodded. She rolled her hips in a torturously slow manner. “I like it when you know things I don’t.” She ground against him again and Sirius moaned loudly as their magic sparked excitedly between them. 

Hermione froze. He blinked his eyes open and she raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m waiting,” she teased.

Sirius groaned. “Onyx. Fuck, okay, onyx.”

She bit his lip and rolled her hips again. “Language,” she scolded.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He pulled her close and buried his face in her neck. Her scent of cherries wafted around him. He finally started talking when she stopped moving again. 

“It helps you stay motivated,” he explained in a rush and was rewarded with a hard grind against his crotch and a flash of hot magic to their bond. “To keep focused on a single thing and not become distra- ah!” he cried out when she snuck her hand into his sweatpants and grabbed the base of his cock. A magical undercurrent of electricity raced down the length of him and up along his spine.

Sirius choked on his words, eyes wide. 

She squeezed him, a delighted grin on her face as she said, “What was that?” 

He moaned. Hermione didn’t move her hand, waiting while he caught his breath. Her eyes traced the outline of his lips and the dark stubble along his jaw. She drank in the sight of his furrowed brows and high cheekbones.

When, finally, he was able to draw in a normal breath again, Hermione ran her thumb along the width of his cock. “Still waiting.”

“It helps stop  _ distraction _ ,” he ground out, nearly stumbling over the word again when Hermione gave him a long, hard stroke. 

She made a humming sound, to show she was listening even as she rose up on her knees and shoved her knickers aside. She whispered the spells they always used against his jaw.

“It helps with mental and physical healing,” Sirius rushed out. His eyes squeezed shut and he bit his lip as she slid down onto him. “Mmm… But mostly-” he grasped her hips. His head tilted back against the headboard as he sucked in a sharp breath, “-mostly, it’s to foster discipline and focus, you little tease,” he finished on a growl and Hermione laughed.

She rose up until only the tip of his cock remained before sliding back down on him. The heady scent of sex and magic filled the bedroom. She moaned. “Merlin, Sirius, you feel so good.”

“You’re such a  _ tease _ ,” he accused again. His fingers bit into the skin at her hips with bruising force.

Hermione bit the bottom of his earlobe as she continued her long, slow pace on his cock. “You like it,” she breathed. 

Sirius bit her shoulder  _ hard _ . He thrust up into her as well as he could in his position. He lifted his knees behind her for more stability before slamming up into her with far more force. 

Hermione cried out. Her hands clamoured for the headboard. She gripped it tightly for leverage as they began to pick up their pace. The lurid sound of skin slapping against skin filled the bedroom. The scent of sex and their combined magic filled the air.

Magic tingled across their skin. It touched their sensitive flesh and teased their senses. Hermione buried her face into the crook of Sirius’ neck. Her tongue and mouth played across his skin, marking him as her own.

Sirius’ hands grasped tightly around each of her arse cheeks as he took full control over their movements. He guided her just right so that he could plunge deep inside her tight, wet centre. 

She bit him when she came and it sent Sirius over the edge. He shouted to the ceiling as his orgasm swept over him in a wave of pleasure and magic. Hermione still hadn’t recovered fully when Sirius rolled them over onto their sides. 

Hermione’s hum sounded more like a moan of pleasure. Her eyes were still shut.

Sirius laughed breathlessly. “You okay, kitten?”

She moaned again. “So good,” she managed to slur out.

Sirius huffed in amusement. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips and was unsurprised when she barely returned it. She had a smile on her face that Sirius could only describe as the cat that had caught the canary. 

He rested on the mattress beside her, willing to take a cat nap before they went downstairs to join Remus in his research on creature law for the charity. Their bond hummed gently between them.

“Remind me in the morning, I got you a necklace too,” he told her as he gently stroked her curls, wet from the sweat of their combined activities.

“For the occlumency?” she mumbled, her eyes still closed. He hummed an affirmative. “Mmmkay.”

“Do I get sex for that bit of jewellery too?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Hermione snorted. “I need to go on the potion.”

“Probably best.”

## 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Slips into your DM's with no less than three smut scenes like 😏😉*
> 
> Shout out to all my American friends and family. Stay strong right now. We're all standing with you.
> 
> Stay safe and thanks for reading! xx


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